It's Still Fall And I'm Still Happy About That

It's a little warmer outside than I'd actually like it to be (way more like early summer than mid-fall), but in January or February, I'll be dreaming about days like this, so I'll take it and hush my mouth. Let's see, what else am I thankful for this week?

1. My pre-k class got to go to the pumpkin patch on Monday. We were scheduled to go two weeks ago, but a near monsoon canceled that and this was our make-up date. It was simply gorgeous at Fredrickson Farms, and just cool enough for a light jacket. Farmer Tami didn't disappoint with her entertaining lesson on pumpkins and pumpkin farming (she begins to get a little slap-happy towards the end of the season, having given the spiel so many times for so many school groups).

That pumpkin weighs considerably
more than Farmer Tami does.

Look how nicely they are sitting!

Teacher selfie.

2. I was helping my class climb up onto the wagon for the hayride and readying them for a picture of both pre-k classes when one of my boys called out from the front of the wagon, "Miss Dyanne, I need to blow my nose." As I asked him if it could wait just a minute, he walked toward me, leaning slightly forward, (strong stomach warning here) a river of snot hanging down from his nose. One of the other teachers handed me tissues, but as I started to wipe his nose, he sneezed again. And again. And again. And again. Poor guy, the hay was really getting to him, but after about 8 sneezes, he was all sneezed out. I got his face and jacket cleaned up (sorry, but I SAID "strong stomach warning"), and we were able to continue with the hayride and pumpkin picking. I'll bet you're wondering about the thankful here, aren't you? Here it is: IT WASN'T BARF!

My class (and assistant, Miss Melissa) in the back row.

3. Emma got to suit up and sit the bench for the varsity volleyball team at District play. As expected, neither she nor the other three sophomores got to play a lick, but they got their names called when the teams were introduced, which was good enough for them. Emma was called first each night, because (a) they announce the non-starters first and (b) she has the lowest number, being the smallest one on the team (the jerseys are numbered and go in order of smallest jersey to largest jersey). 

Woo hoo, #4!

4. While in the audience at the volleyball game, I was reminded of the importance of looking at the back of your head in the mirror, especially when trying out a new 'do. I'm thankful I learned that from my mother, who always checks her hair before leaving the house.

Check the mirror, ladies.

5. This one is especially for Sandy Ramsey, who lives in Florida and has lovely, hot weather year 'round, but who also doesn't get to experience the changing leaves like those of us in the states that get winter. I'm very thankful for hard maples, because they have the BEST color of all the trees, and my neighborhood has lots of them!

6. Our bedroom windows have been open all week, day and night, and Ruby has enjoyed getting up-close with nature, but not so close that it can grab her. Squirrel action in the trees just outside this window had her mesmerized.

7. Our football team got to play in the District tournament, and we went to Springfield to watch them. Kickapoo High School has the worst visitor section I've ever seen (and with our years and years of youth cheerleading, I've been in a LOT of high school football stadiums). No speakers. The bleachers sat behind and BELOW the edge of the track, so the team, standing on the sidelines, was taller than we were in the bleachers. Extra bleachers brought in completely blocked what little view was left when they filled up with people. We lost, 35-21. But as I knew Emma would ditch me to sit with her friends, I am thankful that I was able to talk the College Boy into coming to the game with us (the least he could do after I fed him dinner). I had an enjoyable three hours with him, listening to him talk about his classes.

8. No school on Friday. No school this Monday, either. Can you say "four day weekend"?

9. My  husband and I walked today on the Frisco Greenway trail, part of the Rails to Trails program. We had never walked there before, and it was hotter than we realized it was going to be today, but when we got to the trail, we saw it was beautifully shady. See?

Oooo! Shade!

As we kept walking, however, we quickly ran out of shade. We soldiered on, though, sure we would run into shade again. Wrong. It was sun, sun, sunny all the way, but it was still very pretty. We walked all the way to the trail head and turned around and walked back, for a total of about 3 and a half miles. Maybe 4. 

When I took this picture, my husband said,
Try one and see if they're poisonous." He really
is trying to kill me, isn't he?!

10. Emma is at a Halloween party tonight, so I will be waiting up until she comes home. I'm thankful she has friends I can trust that will drive her to events like this, so I don't have to go traipsing across town late at night to get her.

Pig in a blanket. Get it?

How's your week been? How are  your thankfuls adding up? Husband tried to kill you but failed? Find yourself thankful for snot, because it's better than barf? Link up below and share all.

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Two Stories, One Nicer Than The Other

It worked!

I have a love/hate relationship with my hair. It is naturally curly and naturally mouse gray, although I'm hoping I keep that fairly well camouflaged (a privilege of being tall is that very few people can see the part in my hair and the gray roots camped out there). The older I get, the curlier it gets. When the weather gods are with me, I beat it into submission with that miracle invention, the straightening iron (WHERE WAS THIS WHEN I WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL?!); when they aren't, my hair is left to its hurly burly curly devices.

However, I made a vow to myself last year that I would NEVER NEVER EVER complain about my hair again when I received the news that I would not need infusion chemotherapy to treat my breast cancer.  And I am proud to say I have kept that vow. Too hot and humid to straighten it? Then it stays curly. Which means it's been curly about 95% of the time for the past four months. 

See? Fall is TRYING.

Monday of this week, fall gave us a little sneak preview. The humidity dropped a bit, along with the temperatures (if you call 82 cool, fall weather, which I don't, but it's at least a start). I also had just bought a new hair product that I hoped would live up to the hype on the outside of the bottle (which it did, surprisingly enough). I went to preschool that morning with sleek, straight hair.

My class of pre-k kids had arrived and were sitting at the tables, doing their morning work (coloring candies in a jar - "C" week, ya know), when one of the boys called me over to him.

"Miss Dyanne? Your hair looks nicer today."

My first thought was, "How sweet!" But before I could complete the thought, loud, snorting laughter erupted from my assistant teacher.

"Nicer than usual?" I asked him.

"Uh huh!" he answered brightly.

More laughter from the peanut gallery of one.

In all fairness, the kiddo meant it as a compliment. But the way it came out, um, yeah. 

And now, this 4 year old boy has single-handedly given me a complex. 

Nicer. NicER. NICER.

Gahhhhh!

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Rockin' the paper gown.

Today was oncology day. Bloodwork good. Passed the "follow my finger" test. No swelling. Breast exam normal (or as normal as it can be when the boobs aren't real). I had requested Mardi Gras beads be thrown to me in exchange for showing him the goods, but he wasn't sure HR would find it nearly as amusing as I would.

Every monthly oncology visit culminates in a trip to the infusion center for my Zoladex injection. When I get called back, I sit in a recliner, waiting for my injection to be delivered by the pharmacy. This can take anywhere from ten to thirty minutes (or more), depending on how backed up everything is. I usually kill time by playing with my phone, sending Snapchats to my friend Allison and looking through Facebook.

Two visits ago, while waiting for my injection to be delivered, an attractive woman of about 45 walked through the center and stopped to have an animated chat with a patient and her two adult daughters who were seated next to me. I kept looking at this woman, because she looked so familiar to me (it's a small town, after all, and it's uncommon NOT to see someone you know or at least recognize any time you go out). I zeroed in on their conversation, shamelessly eavesdropping as best I could, in an attempt to garner a clue as to where I had seen this woman before, when I realized she was talking about her recent cancer diagnosis and upcoming treatment plan. I was taken back for my injection at that point, and all thoughts about the woman faded from my mind.

I sat in my recliner today, pulling out my phone so I could entertain myself until my injection arrived, when an infusion patient, assisted by one of the nurses, slowly walked from the restroom back to a recliner. The patient was dressed in baggy sweatpants, her skin pale and somewhat ashen, devoid of make up, her hair mussed. She walked slowly, painfully, towards her chair, and it was then that I recognized her as the cheerful, attractive woman I had seen two months previously, fresh from her diagnosis and prior to any treatments. The nurse helped her into the chair, where she turned onto her side, pulled a blanket up to her chin, and closed her eyes.

And I sat there, healthy as a horse, guilt-ridden for my good fortune, heart broken for a woman I'm not sure I even know.

It sucks. Cancer sucks.

Treatments are barbaric and primitive and temporary. Always temporary.

And it sucks.