Gimme a Head With Hair--or Batman

I did it. After weeks, months of complaining about my hair, I chopped it off. I was so tired of only being able to wear it in a ponytail or clipped back, of the long strands breaking constantly in the shower (that was just gross, really. eww), and hanging there in my face. I wanted some movement, some style, my curls back! I didn't have the time, or the money, the go to the salon, and since my go-to hair stylist friend is temporarily out of commission, I began thinking I'd just pick up the scissors myself.
This is a BIG DEAL!! If you've ever cut your own hair, you know, it's seldom a good idea. However, I have had this hair my entire life. I know it better than anyone else. Stylists at salons invariably want to wash it and cut it wet, not listening when I say "I have naturally curly hair. It needs to be cut dry, do not use that comb or razor on it!" Since I had an idea what I wanted, and I know my hair, I turned to YouTube for practical help.
An hour later I'd watched videos of women cutting their own hair, some with more success than others. The woman who put all of her hair up in a ponytail and then chopped it off scared me; her hair looked like my worst nightmare. But to fair, it didn't look that good going in, either. I watched hairdressers give lessons on how to cut your own hair, and that was when I decided to take the plunge, and headed to the mirror.
In less than an hour my hair went from well below my shoulders to jaw-length, with lots of shorter layers. Shannon helped me straighten out the stragglers along the back. I was afraid I wake up this morning and burst into tears, but instead I feel light, free. As if I've finally started on a new path. And my hair looks great!

I did have a weird dream, about coloring hair though, involving myself and my sister Jolene. In a huge house (that was guarded by an Asian Batman--that may have been hangover from a different dream, though..) we were coloring our hair, as women sometimes to. She was using a dark golden blonde; I had decided to use a silvery dye to turn the are where my dark hair is beginning to go grey into a nifty streak. Kinda like Stacy London's. I had painted this goop on the front of my head, leaving the back dark. Which makes no sense. But it's a dream. I looked down to see the sink full of hair; large, brown curls of hair, just taunting me. In the mirror I resembled Medusa. When I went to rinse my hair, in a huge bathroom with gilt fixtures and marble floors, I became angry. There was Jolene's dark gold hair color splattered all over the walls and floor! She'd done her hair in my bathroom, and made a huge mess! I was furious, and started yelling at her, while rinsing my hair. She stood there, telling me that Batman would clean it up. Then there was a pit bull peeing on the floor, she sprayed him with a hose, and I woke up.
What do you think that means?

Karma Is A Bitch (But She Likes Me)

They say what goes around, comes around. You get as good as you give. You reap what you sow. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. My karma ran over your dogma...wait, that's a bumper sticker, not a philosophy. Still, this week, I saw karma in action for the first time. It was simple, but I needed it. I am not going to gloat, although I would really like to, but I do not want to be the bigger person. What I will say is this: after months of attempted emotional extortion, I am free. A little background is needed, I know. Since our relationship ended, this person (call him Santa), has attempted to get things from me by offering up photos and videos of my late friend Michele. This emotional blackmail has ended now, with the crash & burn of his hard drive. I did not need his photos to remember Michele; I have the real thing in my heart, always. His arrogance and sheer nastiness at using these items made my blood boil, however. Now that he has nothing to use over me, Santa believes he has no power over me, and our relationship is done. Odd, I was done months ago. And he had no power. Never did. I am happy karma bit him in the ass. I hope his hiney hurts. Remember the Golden Rule, baby.

Sweet Music Man (My Rock-Star Boyfriends)

"Play your song sweet music man...
Nobody sings a love song quite like you do
And nobody else can make me sing along
Nobody else can make me feel
That things are right when I know they're wrong
Nobody sings a love song quite like you."

I love that song, and the men on my list of "rock star boyfriends" all fit into that mold. Each, with his music, has made me feel things were right when I know they're wrong. Or make me dance.


So, not all of them are actually rock stars, but who cares? It's my list, I'll do what I want!

Chris Isaak. Two words "Wicked Game." Need I say more? Not really, but I will-- his newest album, Beyond the Sun, has a cover of Elvis' "Can't Help Falling In Love," that is in my opinion, better than the original. Makes my toes curl.

Yo-Yo Ma. A classic music rock star. The cello is the sexiest instrument, and Yo-Yo makes love to his. Listen to his recordings, and you can feel the passion. Turn the lights down, pour a glass of wine, and put some Yo-Yo Ma on the stereo. I am especially fond of his Bach cello suites.

Tom Petty. I don't care what he looks like; this singer-songwriter has been a part of my musical life since high school. I'd date him, if only because he's a poet.

Elvis Costello. Smart. Sexy. Poetic. A bit hipster, but he really was doing it first, so who cares? My first experiences with Elvis Costello were in Portland coffee houses in 1989, and I have never looked back!

Raul Maulo, lead singer of The Mavericks. Both with country band The Mavericks and on his own, Raul Maulo has a voice to make me swoon. In the same mold as Roy Orbison & Chris Isaak, his voice has lovely lows and that amazing falsetto to give you shivers. Listen to his rendition of 'Blue Moon,' and see.

Jon Bon Jovi. Still. He rocked back in the 80's, and is hotter than ever, and still rocking twenty years later. His smile is still adorable, and so is that butt, although he has much better hair now!

Enrique Iglesias. All the suave his father had, along with a big helping of pure sex drive on a plate!

He's even hotter in Spanish..

Josh Turner. This country boy is cute enough, but as soon as he starts singing, he becomes incredibly sexy! That deep voice asking "I wanna be your man" is just yummy.

My Rock-Star boyfriends. Aren't they great?

Movies That Move Me

As I travel around the world on the internet, reading various blogs every day as I do, I often think "hey! That is a great idea for a post! I should do that!" Then I forget about it, and go on with my life...
Not this time. After reading several terrific list-based posts yesterday, I decided that the time had come to follow through. Heaven knows I love to make lists, and can blather on about why something is amazing, or sucky, with the best of them!

These are few movies that, no matter how often I see them, touch some part of me, move me, or just make me think.
In no particular order:

Sophie's Choice (1982)
Starring Meryl Streep, Kevin Kline and Peter MacNicol.
"Sophie is the survivor of Nazi concentration camps, who has found a reason to live in Nathan, a sparkling if unsteady American Jew obsessed with the Holocaust. They befriend Stingo, the movie's narrator, a young American writer new to New York City. But the happiness of Sophie and Nathan is endangered by her ghosts and his obsessions." (Summary from IMDb.com)
Yes, I fell in love with the novel by William Styron, first. But Sophie will forever be Meryl Streep for me. She is simply luminous in this film. Her beauty is so pure in such a complicated tragedy, that it is nearly impossible to take my eyes from her face. Each time I see the film, my heart breaks again. For Sophie, for Nathan, but mostly for Stingo, who we know will triumph, but will never be the same. The blend of poetry, music, tragedy friendship and love keep me coming back over and over. 

The Color Purple (1985)

Another favorite book, Alice Walker's 'The Color Purple' was translated stunningly by Steven Spielberg. The story remains as powerful and moving as it should be (often a failing in book-to-film ventures), and is also visually perfect. Simply seeing the beauty of this on the big screen shows how Spielberg understood the title line, shown in this clip:


"I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it."

This film--and book too--helped me see that all kinds of women are beautiful, powerful, and strong. Watching Celie learn to own her smile, to grin without hiding, makes me believe in myself. And when I am feeling down, I sing this song in my head, and feel better.

The Shawshank Redemption (1994)
Yes, another book-to-film has made my list. Big surprise.
Based on a short novel by Stephen King, this movie has everything to get me crying. Even though I know what will happen, I still cheer at the end. My favorite scene (likely everyone's) is this one:

                                 

Locking himself in the Warden's office, Andy plays Mozart over the prison sound system, just because it is so beautiful. He earns himself a stretch in solitary, but it sure seems worth it.

"For the briefest of moments, every last man in Shawshank felt free."

Doesn't get much better than that.



The Fisher King (1991)

This movie breaks my heart, makes me laugh, cry, sing, and leaves me wanting more every single time. Probably my favorite of all Robin Williams' work, his complex portrayal of a man so broken by grief that he vanishes into a fantasy land of medieval knights and chivalry is stunning, and at times comic. The blend of fantasy and reality in this movie just takes my breath away.

For example, Grand Central Station, is suddenly a ballroom:
                               

Directed by Terry Gilliam of Monty Python fame, this movie should be seen by everyone, as far as I am concerned. You won't be disappointed. Bring a hankie, though!


Next time, my rock-star boyfriends...

Hey, Girl! Internet Addiction and Me!

Yes, I am an addict. There, I said it. I am a junkie. I loooove my internet connection. I love reading ebooks. I love Pinterest. I love Tumblr --especially the wide variety of "hey girl's" that exist  My favorite is Nathan Fillion. Although if a Bruce Willis exists, that may beat him out, because Bruce always wins. '

I love Facebook, and email, and Twitter, and all the other millions of things. I love reading random blogs about somebody's kids, cats or DIY projects, or sex life. These seems to be the main themes for blogs, along with celebrity love/hate, politics, fitness/weight loss, and religion-- all of which I avoid as much as possible, except for the aforementioned tumblr's.

Recently I came across this Forbes article about the newly listed Internet Use Disorder listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Health Disorders (DSM-V). Turns out I may actually have a problem. Of course, not like those parents who let their kids starve while they play online games...of course, I do consistently "forget" things when deep in the Pinterest wonderland! Yikes...

My only solution is to turn this bloody machine off and walk away.

Now.

Do it!

Maybe later. Gotta see if there is a Bruce Willis "Hey Girl" out there...

Then I'll go outside...

Oh, Captain!

fREADom!

Celebrate Banned Books Week 2012 (September 30-October 6) by reading something that someone thinks you shouldn't!

Fifty Shades of Me

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A Howling

I'm writing this post on an airplane to Grand Junction, where tomorrow we're having a memorial service for Michele. Whenever mother called to tell me of the service, and ask if I would like to say something, there was never any doubt in my mind. Yes.
That was just over a week ago, and I am still unsure what I'll be saying tomorrow.

Since Michele died in April, there has been a gaping hole in my life. A small tear that opened when she first told me she was sick, and grew larger with each progression of theater, until that day when she was gone. Leaving this rent in the fabric of my world. Our world, for there are many of us grieving her.
I've tried to read books by others who have lost loved ones, but never repast the first few chapters. Then I either begin crying so hard I can no longer see the page, or I become annoyed at the self-righteous tone taken by some, and my anger overflows. Either way , I end up crying.
While reading 'Wild'  by Cheryl Strayed, a memoir about a woman who hikes the Pacific Crest Trail after her mother dies of cancer, I stumbled on a passage that summed up exactly how I have felt in the last year.
"I almost howled in agony. I almost choked to death on what I knew.... I was going to live the rest of my life without my mother."
Strayed says she felt this way from the moment her mother received her diagnosis; her cancer was so advanced there was no hope. Yet for me, these words say exactly how I have felt since I received that phone call, saying Shel was gone.
Inside my mind, my soul, there is a constant howling, a never ending scream of pain and sadness, loss and grief. The person I loved most in the world is gone, and I am alone. For the rest of my life.
We will never race wheelchairs through the rest home, and annoy the nurses. We'll never make it to see Barry Manilow sing in Vegas, or do our Copa dance wearing the feathered hats we made. I'll have to sit through the next class reunion alone. And without her, I have nobody to call and tell my life to.
Every day I miss her. That will never end. I believe the noise of grief inside me will quiet down; I'm hoping tomorrow's memorial will help with that.
Until we are together again, I will grieve. I miss you, Michele.

It Made Me Cry

The book of poems is called 'Bite Every Sorrow.' The poet is Barbara Ras. 
I sat in the sun, in a red chair,  reading, and wasn't really very interested. The poems were not grabbing me, not really my style.

Then I came to a set called 'Letters To the Front.'  I began to cry. The poems, from a wife to her husband at war, poem 1 tells of how their child is doing, how she doesn't sleep. That was not what made me cry.

Letter To The Front, 2 speaks of death and remembrance, and touched something within me. Reading this in the week after my best friend died, when the wound was still raw, this poem spoke to me. It's hard to explain why, exactly, since the poet speaks of the death of a husband and lover. Yet I feel Michele's loss in many of the same ways; we were young girls together, and every day something happens that makes me feel her absence. It says things I couldn't say then. Isn't that what poetry is for, really? To help us speak, when we cannot?

I won't include the entire thing here, because it is quite long, but I'll hit the highlights, the parts that spoke to me. 

LETTER TO THE FRONT, 2

When it is still, I listen for your voice.

It has a life of its own, without you.

On bad day, just words, strength,

gardenias, repent.

On good days, stories, like children coming out after rain....

Before the war, I thought I knew 

where we stood, the ground

solid and the big blue earth

held up by a turtle and below that

turtles all the way down....

I watched a man touch his wife 

on the cheek with the rounded back

of his hand. Just once, his half-fist

brushed the invisibly fine fur of her face,

just once, like a comb, like salt, like a line

their bodies would never cross.

Some days I can't eat. By night

I am hollow with caves, your absence painting

my walls with giraffes, swans,

a black rabbit whose eyes are vermillion.

No one knows about the animals.

No one knows about the speechlessness they keep.

When we danced and our bodies curled

to each other, I couldn't imagine collisions.

It was the sea I wanted to feel under us.

Now there are windows.

This one to see if there's fire.

This one to see if 

there's bigger fire.

This one for the bomb

the size of a Volkswagen shot twenty miles.

This one for you. This one for you.

                                 by Barbara Ras

First Step

After months of being unsure about what to do with the next in my life, a Facebook post on conversation with an old friend has clarified some things. I know what I'm doing next. Kind of.

Yesterday, my friend Elissa, who I've known since wee both were students at what was then Mesa College in our hometown of Grand Junction,  posted that she's thinking of opening a school. After five years of saying no to God's prodding, she's saying yes. She called, and we talked about it, and about the possibilities of my joining her in this venture (along with the reasons for the school, which I won't get into, because that's her story, not mine), and somehow, we got into a discussion about my returning to school for my Master's degree.

I have a BA in English, and a few years ago, right after my divorce, I began classes for the graduate program in Early Childhood Education at Portland State University. I enjoyed the classes, but I was very nervous about taking the test required for actual admittance, and my financial aid was shaky. So I quit. (I've quit a lot of things in my life; it's a pattern I'm not proud of, one I'm trying to change.)

I always loved being in school, and I miss it. If you look at my college transcripts, that's obvious: I studied at three different schools, changed my major a number of times, and took ten years to finally graduate! Then I took courses at two community colleges later!  Up until the last four years, I'd spent most of my life in a classroom of some sorts, either as a student or a teacher. No wonder I've felt so lost these last few years; I've away from my native soil!

With a Master's degree in ECE, and all my years of teaching experience, I could qualify as a Director of a preschool, which would be pretty nifty. I've not made a decision yet what degree to pursue, just that I'm going to do it.It's at least the beginning of a plan. Taking a step forward in my life, even if it's a baby step.And oddly enough, I'm not scared at all this time.

God will put me where He wants me to be, doing what He wants me to do. I've always believed He had a plan for me, that He was watching over me for some reason, and I'm pretty sure that sitting in this chair watching Golden Girls reruns isn't it. He kept me safe - well, alive, anyway - through all those seizures, and accidents caused by seizures - car accidents, falls in the shower, tumbles down stairs,  all that crap -  and I don't think it was so I could end up sitting around, doing nothing, wishing for a different life, making no impact on the world around me, or even the world within me. He didn't create me to be this barren landscape.

I'm BAA-ACK!

I know, you missed me. Now you can rejoice, because I won't go away again--I promise! Lots has changed since I last posted, including location, obviously.

The last few months have been a time of many changes in my life, and the changes just keep on coming. (I feel like a David Bowie song...) A psychologist I spoke  with ( I'm seeing a psychologist. Big surprise there.) said that I'm in a "time of transition."

Transition. Oh, yeah. BIG TIME.

In March, about two weeks before my 44th birthday, I left the relationship I'd been in since 2009, and moved from Vancouver back to Portland. It was a very difficult thing to do, but one that had been a long time coming. Making that decision set me free, in many ways; don't misunderstand me, I wasn't being help prisoner or anything, but emotionally, I felt trapped. And financially, there was no way out. So I'm back in my parents house, where my money is mine, and I have my freedom while I'm waiting for my disability appeal hearing. That part of my life is up in the air: I don't know how long it'll be until the hearing, or what they'll decide. So my life is definitely in transition.

The largest change was also the worst, and has knocked me off my feet, broken my heart. On April 12, my best friend, Michele Miller Mahmood, died. The breast cancer she'd been fighting took her, and the world lost one of the best people ever created.  I'll write more about this later, because Shel deserves an entire post, and entire blog, all her own.

I'm struggling to find my way in this new world, to transition into a life where I am on my own. I've always treasured my family, but suddenly, they seem so much more precious. My sister, Jolene, is going through her own transitions, yet has given her time to help me when ever I need her. She's wonderful, and I am so thankful for her.

People keep asking what I'm going to do now. That's the million dollar question, folks! Let's figure it out together, shall we?

Book Review: Happy Accidents

I am so glad I read this. Like, Jane Lynch, I grew up wanting idolizing folks like Carol Burnett, (who wrote the introduction) and hoped that someday I'd be an actress. Unlike her, I didn't have the talent, or drive, or happy accidents it took to get there.
I do, however, have this book, along with all seasons of The Carol Burnett Show, and a growing collection of Glee tunes. My favorite movies these days feature Ms Lynch; her appearance in Talladega Nights made the movie for me. (Granny L:aw. We need more of that).
Now that I've read her memoir, I'm glad to know she's a terrific, real, happy person.
No, it isn't "great literature." So what? It's well-written, funny, heart-felt, and teaches a few small lessons. And it was just what I needed. And that was a happy accident.

Book Review: The Drowning Season

Alice Hoffman is a poet who just happens to write novels. I am a poet who happens to read novels. Is it any wonder that Hoffman's books are among my favorites? With each book, I become more enchanted, more in awe of her.
The Drowning Season is, like so many of Hoffman's works, almost a fairy tale. The story of two women, Esther-the-Black, and her granddaughter, Esther-the-White follows their lives through one summer,  the last drowning season. As Esther-the-White struggles to find peace and love at the end of her life, we hear the story of her escape from Russia, to the Compound she has created on Long Island. Who will know her, love her, before it is too late? Will it be her son, Patrick, who she's held at arm's length his entire life, has  spent each summer trying to kill himself in the nearest body of water, earning himself the nickname The Drowned Man from the fishermen in the town near by.  Her husband, Mischa, who she brought with her out of Russia,  but has never truly loved.  Cohen, the hired man, who loves her, or her granddaughter, who hates her? 
The Drowning Season gains an almost mythic quality as Esther-the-white tells her story of escape & loss and  hopes for love & redemption.   Hoffman's lyrical  novel is magical, smooth as sea glass. 


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Book Review: Mystery

Mystery by Jonathan Kellerman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I'll always be a fan of Dr. Delaware: these books are an addiction for me, and each new one gets read as fast as possible! While "Mystery" wasn't as thrilling as some of the earlier novels (The Murder Book is my favorite!) it was still a great read, and I didn't see that ending coming at all. As always, it was wonderful to see the interaction between Alex and Milo, who is one of my favorite literary characters, as they try to solve this crime. Bringing Robin along on a stakeout was also a nifty idea; get her out of the workshop and into the action, I say!

All in all, this was worth waiting for. I'll be waiting impatiently for the next Alex Delaware book!


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Book Review: What the Dead Know

What the Dead Know by Laura Lippman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

With this novel, I see why Lippman's books continue to be bestsellers: she tells the story of two sisters, missing from a Baltimore mall for 20 years. A woman appears, claiming to be one of these sisters, telling a patchwork tale of kidnapping, rape and murder. She's been hiding under false names for years, she says. But her stories don't quite add up. Why? Who is this woman, really? What happened on Easter weekend all those years ago?


I truly enjoyed this book, and was surprised by the end. I am a big fan of Laura Lippman's stand alone novels (rather than the Tess Monoghan series), and yet I found myself smiling when I recognized characters from other books. Since she writes detective fiction, I guess that's to be expected, but still...





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Book Review: Fallen Grace

Fallen Grace by Mary Hooper
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This YA historical novel was a quick & pleasant read, well-written and quite informative. I'd no idea about Victorian mourning customs, but found the details given here just as interesting as the plot.


15-year-old Grace is a "fallen woman" after being molested by a stranger in the training school she'd been sent to with her sister Lily. Lily is older, but "simple," and from the time the girls were orphaned, ten years ago, Grace has been looking out for her. Grace has given birth to a still-born child, and in her trip to bury the infant, meets undertaker's wife Mrs. Unwin and law clerk Mr, Solent: two people who will change her life. After returning to the rooms she & Lily call home, to the streets where they sell bundles of watercress each day, Grace's life takes a turn for the worse, when their boarding house is condemned, and they must find a new place to live. Starving, homeless, and terrified of the workhouse, Grace seeks out Mr. Solent's help, only to be turned away by a man at the law firm door. With no other options, she & Lily turn to Mrs. Unwin, and Grace is hired on as a mute, a sort of mourner-for-hire, and Lily is promised a place as a maid in the Unwin's house. But why?


No spoilers here.  Read the book. With cameo appearances by Charles Dickens--whose influence is felt throughout 'Fallen Grace'-- Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, this is a book worth reading!


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Book Review: By the Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead

By the Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead by Julie Anne Peters
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Every so often, I stumble across a YA book that I enjoy, simply for its plot & characters. This was one of those novels. The story of 15-year-old Daelyn, who has been bullied since kindergarten, "By The Time You Read This, I'll Be Dead" is the story of her life, and how she's choosing to end it. As she recovers from one failed suicide attempt, Daelyn discovers a website to help those who "can't complete," and begins telling her tale in online forums, and to us.

Of course, it wouldn't be a proper YA novel without a moral. Fortunately, Julie Anne Peters manages to give us an upbeat ending without sounding like an afterschool special.


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Book Review: Real Murders

Real Murders by Charlaine Harris
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

After waiting months for a library copy of Real Murders, I finally broke down & bought my own copy for my eReader, and proceeded to finish the novel in one juicy sweep. I do love Charlaine Harris' books, and now that the Sookie Stackhouse series is almost finished, I'm happy that I have a new-to-me series to jump into. Aurora Teagarden is a delightful heroine, both smart & funny. I'd have appreciated a bit more of a plot twist at the end, but let's be honest-- I'm not expecting Hitchcockian story lines from these books.

All in all, I found Real Murders a real satisfying read.


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Book Review: Deja Dead

Déjà Dead by Kathy Reichs
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Being a fan of the television show "Bones," I'd wanted to read this book to see how they compared, and it took me quite a while to get a hold of this novel, the first in the series. For the first few chapters I wasn't sure if I'd continue or not. Kathy Reichs' writing style is rather cold & clinical, and while the plot itself had me interested, I took a lot longer to warm up to the characters. I'm not sure I ever did.

The scientific jargon used by the main character, Temperance Brennan, can be hard to wade through. For instance, instead of simply saying  "wrist bones" she describes them as "carpal bones." That was one of the easy ones. While she's is intended to be a sympathetic character-- divorced, recovered alcoholic, lonely-- it is difficult to connect with her. Even when she's in danger.

I did enjoy the book more as it went on, even staying up past midnight to finish it, and I did truly enjoy the last few chapters. However, I am not sure if I'll be reading more in the series. Perhaps character development gets better as the series progresses, as so often happens? Reichs must be doing something right-- there are 14 books in the Bones series, all bestsellers.

Has anyone else read these? What did you think?


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Butterfly of Hope

Yep, I'm back in the chilly Pacific Northwest, where the temperatures and the accents are more familiar to me. My visit to Canada was cut short, but thankfully, BFF is doing much better! While the doctors attribute this to the  chemo, I believe it was due to the powers of  ME!
Truthfully, friendship, laughter, entertainment & some relief of tension, all of which I was there to provide, due have a positive effect on everyone, sick or healthy. Never have I been so glad to be able to make someone smile as I was this last month. Sitting in the Oncology Clinic with BFF as she received blood transfusions & chemo, and saying something that made her grin or giggle was simply fabulous.
While visiting BFF, I was blessed to accompany her to Wellspring Cancer Support Center for relaxation and visualization classes. In these sessions, led by an amazing woman named Rachel, we practiced guided meditation, then had a time of discussion, sometimes about a reading Rachel presented, others about something brought up during the meditation or things going on with members of the group. The members of the group, all cancer patients and caregivers, are a mixed bunch-- men & women at all stages of treatment, from the recently diagnosed to those going through second or third diagnoses. They've learned to support themselves and each other, and I was amazed at both their vulnerability and their strength. There was hope, fear and beauty in that room, and I am proud to have been there.
Each day I continue to pray for BFF, and all the others struck by cancer. Truly, this is the sharpest weapon in Satan's armory. Pray with me, would you?

Book Review: The Night Season

The Night Season by Chelsea Cain
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Chelsea Cain has been credited with making the serial killer genre "female friendly." I can't say if that's true or not, but she does write one hell of a book! The Night Season is #4 in the Gretchen Lowell Series, and it is another fabulous thriller. The one issue I have is that Gretchen Lowell only appears in two paragraphs, at the very end! Her presence is felt throughout the book, as Portland police detective Archie Sheridan searches for a killer. The Willamette River is flooding, and someone is poisoning people before pushing them into the river. Archie and reporter Susan Ward are once again in danger as they track down this murderer and his odd weapon.

I must say, I was surprised by the serial killer's choice of weapon, but reading on, it started to make more sense. I was disappointed that Cain did not explore the Vanport story line further, choosing to neatly tie it all up in few paragraphs at the end. It seemed too easy, and I for one, would have liked for that story line to have been included more in the entire plot. It was interesting, and since it was, indeed, crucial to the actual killer, it should have been explored further. Instead, it was simply a side note, a story only Susan was interested in.

That being said, I completely enjoyed this novel. The development of the characters since book one is remarkably real; Archie still craves Vicodin, Susan has a hard time standing up to her boss. The action in this novel is not as gorey as the previous three, but still thrilling, and closer to home. I love seeing places I know in Cain's novels; I'm a Portland girl, too. I'm looking forward to the next Chelsea Cain novel; you should, too!



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The Frozen North?

I thought Canada was supposed to be cold. That's why I packed more cardigans than t-shirts for my visit to Toronto.  I've been here a week, and the temperature has been in the high 70's or 80's every day! Jeez Louise, I felt like I was on the bayou one day, it was so muggy & hot. I kept listening for a jazz band to start playing, or frogs to croak; instead, I heard Indian & Scottish accents, Bollywood music, and saw seagulls overhead.

I'm here in Brampton, Ontario, a suburb of Toronto, for the summer, staying with my BFF Michele and her family. As my readers know, Michele is going through chemo for breast cancer. I'm came up to help her out, give my support, and entertain her if at all possible. She and her husband have three boys, ages 14, 4 & 2, so I'm trying to help with them, as well.

This is not an easy time for any of us. Stress levels are high, and there have been moments in the last week when I wanted to scream. I know I cried at least once, but I did it alone, in my room. Since they were tears of frustration & exhaustion, they were especially annoying to me.

There have been many tears here this week, as often happens in a house with little kids. These children  cry and scream a lot more than usual, and I'm not sure if that's due to the tension of their parents, or their father's parenting style.

I never understand parents who holler at their little kids "Stop crying!" as if that will work. Especially when the child has had a tantrum, and is at that point where they cannot physically make themself stop; what they need is to be held, and soothed. Shouting never works. I find myself very frustrated here, because I want so much to help, and yet I can't really interfere. I have been given the go-ahead on some things, but not others. Some of teacher skills are being used, others, ignored or contradicted. 

I have to remind myself "they aren't your kids, not really your problem, nobody really asked for your advice," and keep my mouth shut. If I can do that, and keep the eye-rolling to a minimum, all will be well.

I may need to send home for more warm weather clothes, though. It's hot here in the frozen North!

Book Review: Three Bedrooms, One Corpse

Three Bedrooms, One Corpse by Charlaine Harris
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

If you're looking for a suspenseful mystery novel, look somewhere else. This is a pleasant read, with your standard whodunit, and a little romance thrown in. It's a pleasant enough book (and certainly well-written!) it is not worth staying up another hour to see who the killer is.

I am a fan of Charlaine Harris's writing, having read all the Sookie Stackhouse novels, and the Harper Connelly series are some of my favorites. (I even got met Mrs. Harris when she was in Portland last month, and I was thrilled!) This was my first of the Aurora Teagarden series, and I'm not sure I'll be reading the other. I simply didn't find the characters or the story as interesting enough.


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Book Review: Girl In Translation

Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok

Girl In Translation is an amazing, compelling book. The story of Kim, a girl trapped between two worlds--the staggering poverty and old-world customs of her home life and the new American manners, language and ideals she has to learn as she attends school and tries to fit in. Kim has only one talent--she is a wonderful student, always top in her class back in Hong-Kong, and she knows that if she tries hard enough she can save herself and her mother from the life they are forced to live here in their new country. But the road to salvation is a lonely path for a girl who cannot share her secrets with anyone, not her one American friend, not her mother, not the boy she comes to care for.

School becomes both a refuge and a burden, and as Kim continues to assist her mother at the factory as she finds herself becoming a shining star in school once again.

I found it nearly impossible to put this book down. I was so caught up in the story of that I ended up reading the entire book in one night. The contrasts between Kim's life at home, in a room without heat, where she & Ma make blankets & clothing from castoff fabric they find in the street and the opulence of her life at school, are simply heartbreaking. Kim is a remarkable young woman, compassionate, naive, and highly intelligent; her contrasts make her a powerful narrator. Seeing America through her immigrant eyes shows both sides of our country, without prejudice-- the appalling poverty and the incredible opportunity. Girl In Translation is a novel of hope.  


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Book Review: A Dirty Job

A Dirty Job by Christopher Moore
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I'm becoming a bigger fan of Christopher Moore with each of his books I read, and A Dirty job has only added to my love. I found myself laughing out loud in many places ("This is the toast of Death."), and reading parts aloud to my boyfriend just to make him laugh.


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Sleepy, Grumpy and....Hatey?

The last few weeks I've barely left the house, except at night, when I couldn't sleep, and I'd get up, and wander around outside for a bit. The dog is still mad a t me for not taking her along on my little jaunts, but  the last thing I needed was to have her knock me down again. I can see it now: me, sprawled across the darkened parking lot, in my jammies & hoodie, my keys lost over there, the dog run away, and no way to call Steven for help. How would the police figure out what happened to me when they found my lifeless body the next next morning (because surely I'd be run over by a car!). "Well, she has a leash in her hand, but there's no dog. It's another of those invisible dog murders, Captain!" I went out by myself, because it's peaceful alone at night, and since I wasn't sleeping anyway, I figured a little exercise wouldn't hurt me. I discovered that somebody in the trailer park across the street plays the clarinet late at night. The strains of Moon River floating through the night seemed especially appropriate. 


No, I haven't been sleeping much, and that's made me rather grumpy. But I have been reading a lot, and that makes me happy. I'm three out of six dwarfs. 
Of course, not sleeping has also caused some of my health issues to flare up: massive body aches, some in spots that have never hurt before, a constant headache, sore joints, and some other weird stuff. What it all boils down to is this: I feel like crap most of the time. 


Don't misunderstand: I love my life, but I hate a lot of things these days.

I hate that the only things I've really wanted to eat for the last two weeks have been sugary. That, coupled with my slug-like motion, means I've gained some weight. This, I hate in the extreme! 


I hate that all my friends are online, not in real life. Add to that, I hate that I know so much about Netflix. 

I hate popping pills. Since I was 16, I've been taking daily medication of some kind, and it seems as if each week now I get one more pill to take. I can barely keep them all straight, and trying to remember each day if I've taken them is sometimes more than I can do. 

I really hate living up to other people’s expectations of what being sick is. Just because I don't look sick doesn't mean I'm not. 

I hate never feeling good enough, quick enough, or just “enough”. There was a time in my life, not so long ago, when I was enough. When five days a week I got out of bed at 6 in the morning, showered & dressed & took the bus clear across town. Then I spent the day caring for & teaching & playing with an amazing group of preschoolers, and loved every minute of it. I'd take the bus home each night, and spend the evening making lesson plans, talking with my family, reading, doing church activities, or dating! Then I'd do it all again the next day. That was my life. And I miss that life on these days when just putting on real clothes takes so much effort that I want to cry! When the cat walking across my leg leaves behind a bruise that lasts for 2 weeks and causes so much pain I have to take a pill. When I fall down walking the dog, and realize I'll never be able to lead a classroom again. 




I'm crying just writing this, and that's another thing I hate. Crying about myself. Poor little me. Jeez. Don't cry for me, anybody. (Just send presents! Ha!) There was a time I'd have loved a great big pity party, but not anymore. Not when I see that my big sister has handled much worse than me with style & courage, and looks good while she's doing it. Becky rocks!  Not while my best friend is facing down cancer, and I want to be there to hold her hand & make her laugh & do the Copa dance, and can't be, Yet. Michele rocks! 
Not when I read about all the other people going through the same kind of things I am, who are dealing in a much better manner. They all rock. Here is a link to ButYouDontLookSick.com  where you can read about The Spoon Theory. 
These are my excuses for not posting, and why I'll be posting more! I'll be taking Michelle's advice to "Suck it up, Buttercup!" 

Book Review: Murder Your Darlings: Algonquin Round Table Mystery

Murder Your Darlings: Algonquin Round Table Mystery by J.J. Murphy
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I chose this novel because I am a fan of the Algonquin Round Table, especially Dorothy Parker, and was intrigued to see them involved in a murder mystery. Frankly, I expected to find a trite, average mystery, full of stock characters and am glad to say I was wrong. This is an old-fashioned mystery, for sure, with only one victim, and many suspects, but that only makes it more interesting.

Mrs. Parker is our main character, and together with Robert Benchley, and other members of the Round Table, she tries to discover the killer. The scattering of other famous characters throughout the book was, for me, simply delightful, as were the various literary references. (My one wish would have been for more of Mrs. Parker's poetry.) Among those famous personages we encounter is a young writer from Mississippi, Billy Faulkner, who Dottie takes a shine to; movie star Douglas Fairbanks;  boxing legend Jack Dempsey, and a host of others.

I won't give away the ending, because that would be no fun at all. But I will say I was surprised, and because of that, I'm happy to recommended Murder Your Darlings, and I will be looking for the next in the series!


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The Good Thief: Book Review

The Good Thief by Hannah Tinti

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This was an oddly hypnotic novel, marvelously haunting. The story of the orphan Ren, who has wondered his entire life how he lost his left hand, and his life both in and outside of the St. Anthony's orphanage, The Good Thief is enchanting in the style of old-school fairy tales. With a hero's journey, a resurrected giant, a dwarf, a flock of Mousetrap girls, nuns & priests, grave robbers, thieves, and an evil rich relative, it becomes a tale of good and evil. Yet we are not always sure who is who, and therein lies the beauty of this engrossing novel.

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Book Review: Full Dark, No Stars

Full Dark, No Stars by Stephen King

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Not the best of King's work, but not too shabby. My advice: read the first two stories in this collection, then close the book & walk away. You'll never miss the last two. But don't read 1922 right before bed, or in a dark room. Stephen King may be getting old, but he is still the king of creepy!

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Book Review: Evil At Heart

Evil at Heart by Chelsea Cain

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Chelsea Cain ROCKS. That is all.
Okay, maybe not all. I read a lot of books and I cannot remember the last time I threw a book down because a scene made me go "Eeewww!!!!!" (Trust me, you'll know it when you get there!)
Each of the Gretchen Lowell series is as good as the one before, and that's quite feat! The characters are fully formed, and the plot captures you from the first chapter. I cannot wait to read the next book.
Oh, and I really, really want a Beauty Killer manicure.

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Book Review: Shutter Island

Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

After seeing the movie, I wanted to read the book, and I'm glad I did. Very enjoyable, descriptive, and while I did see Leo DiCaprio's face throughout my reading (not a bad thing!), the other characters were totally new. I'll definitely be picking up more of Mr. Lehane's books.

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Book Review: Room

Room by Emma Donoghue

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

"Room" is one of the most emotionality charged & moving novels I've read in a long time. Told entirely from the point of view of five-year-old Jack, who has spent his life inside of Room with his Ma, and believes the outside world to be only make believe. For Jack, Room is his home, but it is Ma's prison, where she's been kept captive for seven years by the man they both refer to as Old Nick.
As the world they know changes for both Ma and Jack, my exhilaration in reading never lagged for even a moment. This is a poignant, sometimes horrifying, occasionally funny tale of love between mother and child. As an Early Childhood Educator, I read Jack's voice with delight, as it is both age-appropriate, yet true to his circumstance. This is a book I want to read again, and will be recommending to everyone. To me, it is a story of how even in the worst of circumstances, love can prevail.

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Book Review: If I Am Missing or Dead: A Sister's Story of Love, Murder, and Liberation

If I Am Missing or Dead: A Sister's Story of Love, Murder, and Liberation by Janine Latus

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This memoir makes me want to call each member of my family, especially my sister, and tell them how much I love them, make sure they are safe, and then keep doing that every day.

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Book Review: Sweetheart

Sweetheart by Chelsea Cain

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I am hooked on this excellent series. Gretchen Lowell & Archie Sheridan make a combustible and dangerous mix. Chelsea Cain takes typical themes (obsessed cop, serial killer, reporter after the truth, evil politicians) and gives them a new and distinctly Portlandian twist!

I read this book in one sitting (as I did the first), and am ready for the next! Totally reccommended for anyone who wants a compelling thriller with a heart.

One note: this book won't make as much sense if you haven't read the first in the series, so try to read them in order.

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Book Review: Whistling In The Dark

Whistling In the Dark by Lesley Kagen

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Sally O'Mally has a big imagination, but she's not entirely wrong. Someone is murdering & molesting the little girls in her neighborhood, and someone is watching her. Are they the same person? Read the book, and find out.

I enjoyed this book, and read it all in one sitting , but there were some things that confused me. Little details, like ages: how old are Sally, and her sisters? There are hints given, but never a definite age, and that bothered me. We never know for sure what city the novel is set in, and that bugged me, too.

The good points outweighed these little annoyances, however, and I have to say that this was a quite a good read. The characters are full-formed and interesting, the storyline moves along at a quick pace, and there are a couple of twists that even I didn't see coming. And the ending is quite amusing, I must say!

One of my favorite characters is Sampson, the gorilla at the zoo, who Sally & her sister Troo visit almost daily. Sally is sure that Sampson is singing along with her when she sings "Don't Get Around Much Anymore."

Overall, this is a book worth reading. Funny, smart, and uplifting. With a big heart, a big imagination, and a great sense of timing, Whistling in the Dark is staying on my shelf!

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A Book Review: Heartsick

Heartsick by Chelsea Cain

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Truly awesome thriller, with a sense of humor. Chelsea Cain, one of Portland's own, has written a sick, twisted, and disturbed novel, and I love it. Gorgeous serial killer, a wounded cop, an intent young reporter, and a new crime spree: all set the stage for one of the best crime novels I've read in a long time!

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Book Review: Dead Reckoning

Dead Reckoning by Charlaine Harris

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I have loved the Sookie Stackhouse series from the first book, and am a fan of the show based on the books as well. Sookie's world, filled with odd creatures, strange adventures, is both dark and funny. I've loved the interaction between characters both supernatural & human, Sookie's growing relationship with Eric, her friendships with Pam & Sam.

Ms. Harris has told us that the Sookie Stackhouse series will come to an end after book #13, and after finishing Dead Reckoning, #11, I'm not so sad about that. Don't get me wrong--I'd love to have more stories about Sookie & her amazing, weird life, but it seems clear the story is drawing to a close. And that's all right. This is not as action-packed as any of the others; in fact, it's a little slow, filled with a lot of back-story. It is interesting, but if you're looking for a "rollicking fast-paced adventure" this isn't it.

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Confessions of a Prairie Bitch: How I Survived Nellie Oleson and Learned to Love Being Hated by Alison Arngrim

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I finished this book in two days, and loved every minute of it. Kept reading sections of it out loud to whoever was nearby--the dog, the cats, my boyfriend.

When watching Little House as a child, I always connected more with Nellie (although I looked like Laura!), and admired her ability to be such a bitch. Turns out Alison Arngrim & I were learning the same lessons from her character-- freedom & confidence, how to stand up for ourselves.

Alison Arngrim's life story could easily have been another "poor me, former child-actor" tale of woe, but she never allows any of her darkness to drag the reader down. All is told with a light hand, a comic edge, and a chutzpah that brings a smile to your face as you're crying. She's used her abuse & loss to help others. This Prairie Bitch is one amazing gal!

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The Dog is Trying to Kill Me

I'm typing slowly today (not that I was such a whiz before) because my entire right arm is in pain after our dog tried to kill me last week. (I should point out here that I am right-handed, and if I'd had the leash in my left-hand, this wouldn't be a problem.)

Kaylee is a 14-month-old Golden Retriever, very affectionate, enthusiastic, and way too full of energy. Last Thursday we were going to run some errands. I was walking Kaylee through the parking lot to the car when she spotted her favorite person in the world, Mike. Immediately, she dashed in his direction, yanking me along with her. What followed would have been a big hit on YouTube, had anyone been filming. I flew off my feet, into the air, and hit the wet, dirty pavement, face down, bruising my knees, & skinning my palms as I landed. The leash was jerked from my hand, and my right shoulder was felt as if it had been pulled out of the socket!

I hadn't realized there were that many people outside, but instantly there were at least 7 neighbors around me, as well as Steven & Mike, all asking if I was okay, and exclaiming over what had happened. "Did you see how she flew? I've never seen a dog do that to a grown-up before!" I heard someone say.

As I cradled my arm against my chest, and headed back inside to change my now wet & dirty clothes, I reminded Mike "Do NOT give that dog any treats!!" Because this, of course, is why she loves him more that anyone else. Mike is the maintenance guy for our apartment complex, and in his storage room, keeps bags of expensive treats for all the dogs that he hands out like candy!

All the dogs adore him.

Later that evening Steven took me to the ER, where they told me I had an Acute Shoulder Strain, gave me some exercises & pain meds. Since then, I can't lift more than I medium-sized book, and even that is sometimes painful. It's hard to write; I can't lift my hand above my head. Ouch.

If that was all, I wouldn't wonder about the dog, but I'm starting to wonder. A month ago, she pulled so hard on the leash I fell down the stairs, and then a week later, she jumped on me when I was on a stepladder, knocking me off. If I see a shadow on the shower curtain, and hear the theme song from "Psycho," I'm gonna know it's her! I think she's out to get me just because I won't let her sleep on the bed. With me out of the way, she'll have Steven all to herself, and can sleep anywhere she wants--sofa, bed, kitchen sink! Nobody will complain "That dog needs a bath!" or that she has toys all over the place.

So if I suddenly end up dead in an odd dog-related accident, you will all know it was no accident! Make sure the dog is prosecuted to the full extent of the law--and do NOT let her sleep on my bed!!

The Tale of Mr Stinky & the DMV

On my birthday a few weeks ago my Oregon ID expired, meaning that I could no longer put off getting a Washington ID if I wanted to be able to do things like pay my rent and buy alcohol. So I today I got all dolled up (meaning I was wearing a good color for me, and my hair looked fabulous!!) and headed over to the Department of Motor Vehicles--just where everyone wants to hang out on a bright, sunny Spring day, right?

I walked in and the place was packed. The wait was at least an hour. I glanced at my ticket: Number 421: then up at the numbers above the counters. Number 299. It was gonna be a long wait.

As I looked around for a seat, I couldn't help noticing the wide & weird variety of people. Seated near the front, a teenage girl holding a toddler. This young mother had just taken her first driving test, and was waiting to get her photo taken. Leaning against the wall, a guy I'd swear I saw on an episode of Law & Order: SVU a few weeks ago (and yes, he was the bad guy). Over by the window, four older men in motorcycle gear, discussing the trip they have planned for the summer. If Stanley passes the vision test, that is. A girl wearing a plaid mini-skirt and what appeared to be tattoo tights made me wonder what she'll tell her grandkids.

Of course, the oddest (or at least the smelliest) person in the room chose to sit by me. Old guy, reeking of smoke & booze. Truly, the stench coming off this man was mammoth! Remember in old cartoons, where a bad smell was represented with wavy lines rising from a character? Well Mr. Stinky had mucho wavy lines rising from his battered clothes, his long gray hair, even his shoes. I can deal with nasty smells: I was a preschool teacher for 25 years, remember? I actually felt kinda sorry for the guy; he wanted so badly to have a conversation with me. Talking is fine, and really, so is being stinky. Touching, not so much. Once he put his hand on my knee, it was time for me to go! This is when the Ladies Room comes in very handy. I hung out in there for five or ten minutes, long enough to get some of the smoke smell off of me, and emerged hoping he'd either be gone or have moved on to someone else. Mr. Stinky was nowhere to be seen, so I found a new seat, and went on with my wait.

I learned a long time ago that dealing with "mashers" (as my Grandmother called men who gave girls unwanted attention), need not always be confrontational. Sometimes it's easiest just to walk away. I can get loud if need be, and I can defend myself. Just ask Seth, whose nose I broke with my bookbag! (Sorry, Seth!)

My point is, don't get stinky with me, especially on a good hair day. I may be nice, but I may just rearrange your face. See you at the DMV.

I'm Not Tom Cruise. I'm Taller.

A few days ago in a post titled 'Bubble Meds, Anyone?,' I stated that I detest anti-depressant medications. I got several rather obnoxious comments about this (which I have been deleted, because I don't want hate here), all telling me how evil and stupid I am to not recognize the wonders that are done by these medications. One commenter even compared me to Tom Cruise ranting on Oprah!

Let me say right now that the only similarities between Tom Cruise & I are height. And a sofa.

Anti-depressants, and medications as a whole, are a good thing. I know lots of folks whose lives are vastly improved by their blend of prescription drugs. Heck, if it weren't for the varied anti-seizure meds I've been on since I was 16, I'd not be able to function. It's quite possible that without those medications I'd be dead now. These medications save lives. I know that.

My issue with anti-depressants in the past has been simply that I've not yet found one that works for me. And of course, I want the quick fix. I'm not a patient person when it comes to medications--I want my pain-killers & cough syrups to work NOW!!! When the happy pills didn't make me happy as soon as I swallowed, well, I gave up. I was young, I had time to wait for the bad feelings to go away. It wasn't a matter of strength, so much as patience & time.

I'm not that young anymore. Many, many things have changed since the last time I had an episode of major depression. Back then I was living with my parents, I had no one depending on me for anything, my health was much better, and my stress level was lower. Now I'm living with my fiance and we are trying to start a business, my health is not good (although my seizures are controlled!), I'm in charge of a household. (Yes, I am!)

Stress, well, stress is high. My best friend, Michele, who just came through breast cancer with a smile on her face has been sick for the last few months. Two weeks ago they found Stage Four cancer in her bone marrow, the bones on her back, and a spot on her lungs. She began chemo last week. I want to be there holding her hand right now, but don't have the money for my passport, much less a plane ticket to Toronto, where she lives. (Her mom is there, so she has help.) But can you understand why my stress level just flew up?

Anyway. My point is that I do not have anything against these medications or the people who take them. I'm not looking for a quick fix this time; I'm willing to be patient.

But if Tom Cruise shows up, telling me all I need are vitamins & exercise to fix my depression, there's gonna be one less Scientologist in the world.

Read This Book!

I've spent the last two weeks obsessed with Jennette Fulda. I began by reading an excerpt of her newest book, Chocolate and Vicodin:My Quest For Relief from the Headache that Wouldn't Go Away, and then searched out her first book, Half-Assed: A Weight-Loss Memoir at the library. This led me to the blog she's known for, http://pastaqueen.com/blog/. It's been difficult to tear myself away. 

Jennette, at her heaviest, weighed nearly 400 pounds, and by changing her eating habits & exercise, she lost half her body weight! I loved reading her stories of this change, partially because she's honest, and not one bit self-righteous, but mostly because she's just plain funny. I laughed out loud (lol) when she says "I felt confident enough to sign up for a 5K race. The former fat-girl bylaws dictate that you must run a 5K or you will be forced to gain back all the weight." Seems that every formerly fat-girl I know is now running 5k's and I think perhaps that's why I'm still fat. I don't want to run.

Jennette's second book, Chocolate and Vicodin is in stores now. It's the story of the headache that wouldn't go away. In February 2008, she got a headache, and has been searching for a cure ever since. Chronic pain is nothing to laugh at, yet she manages to make it funny; the woman has a gift.

Now, I haven't had a chance to read the book yet; it was just released last month, and I am too broke to purchase it. (It is on hold at the library, and my birthday is coming up, so..) I have read a couple of excerpts and the blog, and I must say, I am feeling very in sync with Jennette.

In the search of a cure for never-ending headache pain, she's given a number of medications, and I have personal knowledge of several of these. The section of her blog that put my feelings into words is quoted below.

"To complicate things further, although the Topamax was making it easier to eat less, it was also making me stupid. It’s nicknamed “Stupamax” and “Dopamax.” It made it harder to speak right, like someone had placed the English language on the top shelf where it was just out of my reach. I could still see it, but I had to stand on my tippy toes to grab words, and even then I was just knocking them over instead of grabbing them firmly. I just felt…dumb. I found myself unable to focus as well. It put a damper on my mood. The crazy switch was turned off, but the stupid switch was turned on."

- http://pastaqueen.com/blog/2008/07/why-diet-pills-are-not-the-answer-unless-they-cure-your-headache/ July11, 2008

I took Topamax for nearly 4 years, as an anti-seizure medication, and hoo-boy, do I remember that feeling. When I couldn't find the words I wanted I used to say my brain was skipping, like a scratched record. My neurologist would test me to see how my verbal skills were, and eventually, as they deteriorated, and the Topamax wasn't controlling the seizures, we switched meds. Right now I'm on a very low dose of it again, to help with chronic headaches (ugh), and I'm skipping every so often. But it is helping me lose weight.

Jennette Fulda writes in a real & humorous manner about things that are happening in her life. It's feels like talking to a friend. I think this is why I've been unable to tear myself away from her blog archives for the last two weeks--I was getting to know my new friend! She's smart, snarky, strong and talented. Read her books! I promise you won't be disappointed.