The Wordmistress

I Laughed Until I Stopped

Bill Maher tells it like it is in this riff on George Bush. And now, darn the luck, the rest of your term has become the Bush family nightmare: helping poor people. Hilarious.

How Do You Want To Die?

The past few weeks have been very tough. My mom came out of brain surgery doing very well. She actually looked pretty, if that is possible. See, she has been sick for a long time. That damn brain tumor was wreaking all kinds of havoc with her and, I guess, no one really knew it. So it was heartening to see her looking, well, good. My sister took a bus all the way from Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania to see her for about ten minutes. Don't ask. But it was the couple weeks after the surgery that have been the hardest.

Do you know what it means when a doctor gives you nine months to live? It means that out of 1000 people with your same symptoms, most people survive a mean average of nine months. For all you mathematically challenged folks out there, this could mean that a person with nine months to live could survive 2 months or two years. This is why you hear that so-and-so's Aunt Helga who was given 6 months to live has lived 10 years and is still going strong. Now, I'm not saying that my mom is going to be so lucky, but what if she is?

See, she wanted to go home. She wanted to skip radiation and chemo and, well, die. And if she went that path, she would. Die, I mean. Surely and painfully. Her stage 4 lung cancer has advanced enough that it would wrap around her windpipe and literally strangle her. If she wanted to die that way, I would respect it. But I wanted to make sure she understood that she had options.

See, my mom suffers from depression. On a good day. And she hadn't been taking her normally prescribed Prozac . And, can you imagine, that on one day, she had gone from a walking, talking, high-heel-wearing woman-about town, to a frazzled old lady with a hole in her head and a death sentence? She was overwhelmed. So, she wanted to die.

And I was prepared to honor her wishes, but I wanted her to be clear on her options. Thing was, she also couldn't hear. Her hearing aid was completely broken and so my dad was passing her notes. And he was tired, and angry and frustrated. And gee whiz, it was a big fucking mess.

She begged us to let her die. It was heartbreaking. I am not opposed to honoring her wishes. I would get hospice over to their apartment in a minute, but I wasn't completely sure that she understood the reality of the situation. I told her over and over that if radiation and chemo meant just a few more months, I wouldn't expect her to do it. But I thought it was worth a chance. Y'know, the woman hasn't even had a symptom of the cancer yet.

Well, I talked to the oncology psychiatrist. And he put her on the meds. On Saturday, I went up there and brought her back her jewelry, all freshly cleaned. I also brought her a note that I had written that clearly indicated how I felt about the situation (I will post it here later). And, of course, I brought Mia. Guess what happened? She started feeling better.

My sister-in-law Margit came and spent time with her and really took hands-on care of her. And you know what? She felt even better. She started working with the rehab people. She got a new hearing aid. She is now in in-patient rehab and wearing her own clothes and wearing make-up. She's still going to die, just not today.

"Robin, I looked in the mirror and had Dad bring me some make-up. How could you let me look like this?" she said to me yesterday.

Mom. You have no idea.

Drink Up

I'm all about Minute Maid's new Light Lemonade and a host of other 5 calorie flavors they have out right now. This link says it's been available for years, but I've only seen it recently. I love it.

I was intrigued by the rave reviews for Diet Coke with Lime by two blogstresses that I read regularly and being a lime fanatic, I took the bait. But I have always had a fairly low tolerance for stimulants so although the taste was rather pleasant, the caffeine made me more edgy and unpleasant than usual. So yeah on the Lemonade!

'Course the light lemonade is necessary because I am dieting and have switched from e-diets to Weight Watchers Online. My friend Allison suggested it and I am way into it. Their point system is like a game, and that is right up my alley. We'll have to see how I do, but I have been making it into the gym at least 2-3 times a week and I have been sticking to a diet for a little while. Yet the scale is not really saying anything. The official weigh-ins are Mondays so that's what I'm going to concentrate on. Wish me luck.

And I've vowed to write more honestly. Like about work for example. For a while now I've been freelancing back at the place I used to work many, many moons ago. It's a place where I grew from a secretary to a copywriter to a creative director. Maybe a little too fast. But I learned so much and that growth was just a sign of the times. One of the biggest lessons I learned is that just because you know how to do something, you don't have to do it. I'm really glad I've re-committed to writing. I feel like I'm beginning to find a voice, and that is really important for a writer. Hopefully, it's a voice that can inform all the other writing that I do. We'll see.

I've written before that working at my old place is like sleeping with an old boyfriend. You know that you're broken up, but the chemistry is right. Still, you both eventually fall into your old habits, and the thing is: you really want to get married but your old company doesn't want to put a ring on your finger, it wants the milk but not the cow, and you get frustrated. You start to freelance at other companies, you try to make your company jealous, but it just doesn't care. It doesn't. even. bat. an. eyelash.

But anyway.

I do have tons of client work right now, fun stuff, will elaborate later. Springtime weather has brought out lots of cute men lately, lots of Smiley McGees, which is one of the many names I have for Miss Mia, who is finally, I think, starting to feel more comfortable at day care. She had a very good report today and she, too, was a Smiley McGee, all the livelong day. And that, of course, is what it's all about.

True Grit

Last night I went to see Soul of a Whore, the third installment in Denis Johnson's pre-apocalyptic trilogy. Whatever you might say about Denis Johnson, he is very committed to his vision. And so are my friends Whitney Blakemore and Robert Whitaker who own the Viaduct Theater and mounted all three of these amazing productions. At the risk of sounding like a fool, I will admit that I often look at my watch during plays. But last night's performance kept me truly riveted. Johnson has these issues that he is hell bent to explore: truth in religion, in sex, in violence, in relationships. And he is not afraid to expose the ugliness of human nature in this process. This, of course, makes for very difficult subject matter for a director and a cast. But these guys handled it with great mastery of their craft. And I'm so impressed by the sets, which look so simple but must have taken forever to build. Set building is underestimated because if they work, there's nothing to think about. Whitney and Rob drive me crazy because I can never get them on the phone, but they are really great at what they do.

I hung out at their bar for a while afterwards and felt pretty cool. Then I went back to my house and looked at Mia sleeping. Cooler.

The Agency Redux

Today I freelanced back at the advertising agency that laid me off two and a half years ago. It was actually quite fun. When I first lost my job, I was really angry at them. After working there six years, I guess felt they owed me something ... yadda yadda ... long story short, had I not lost my job I'd have never got knocked up and never had Little Miss Mia by my side. I learned a lot working at there, but frankly when I got canned, it was time for me to go. I needed a break. What I did not need, however, was to go broke. Luckily work has definitely picked up these days. (Give me a whoop and a holler, Robin's got the power!) I liked being at the agency today. Still have some old, great friends there. It felt very natural. Like an old boyfriend that broke up with you, but you just have to sleep with him every so often. Something about the chemistry.

Busy

I found a really cute web site today, Busy Baby. This project is the brainchild of Busy Mom who has a pretty fun web site herself. My blog list of regulars is getting very very long. But if I don't keep busy with my blogging habit, I might fall back into one of my old bad habits. Like the Sims. Now that's a habit I just can't spare the time for anymore. I used to be terribly addicted. Then I quit cold turkey, sold all of my expansion packs on ebay. But after Mia was born and Ross died and I didn't smoke cigarettes or drink or have any truly nasty habits, I needed, well, I needed something. So I bought all the damn expansion packs up again and started playing again. When the work started rolling in, and Mia started rolling over, I stopped playing. I haven't gotten rid of the Sims this time, but I'm happy to say -- my name is Robin and I am pretty much an ex-Simmer.

Here is another clip I found in my web travels. (Warning: pop-ups) Unfortunately, I cannot credit where I swiped it from cuz I forgot. But Mia and I are both fairly entranced by it.

You may have noticed that I do not comment on the, er, conflict in Iraq much. It is mostly because I am so incredibly angry at the situation that words fail me. I have never supported war, though I do concede that there may be some cases where it is necessary. ('Cept I'm not sure what those are) I think George Bush (any one, pick your loser) is a vindictive fool who can't tell his ass from his elbow and I shudder to think of the poor souls who are blown to bits in the name of patriotism. Having spent Bush's entire term unemployed, I long for a government that cares about its domestic policies and doesn't wave its flaccid dick around in other peoples' business.

Jeesh. I'm so sorry. I was just talking about Simming and bumblebees and sweetness and then I got all medieval on George Bush' ass. Well that's the way this busy bitch bounces sometimes.

Peaking

Yesterday the Wordmistress got more than 100 hits!!! Sis-boom-bah!!! It is mostly because of a sweet mention by jodi at iwilldare. Her readers clicked over here looking for something interesting and lo and behold I had just posted my dumbest post ever. Some stayed though and I hope they had a good time. Come back y'all!

That reminds me of when I was a kid. I used to watch the Beverly Hillbillies and at the end they'd say, "Y'all come back now, y'hear?" But I heard, "Don't come back now, y'hear?" I was quite befuddled for years. It was around the time, I think I was five or six, that I swore I made up "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice scream." My grandma told me that I must have heard it some where, BUT I DIDN'T. I contended then, AND I CONTEND NOW, that I made it up ... even if someone else made it up first.

Great link to share, via the usually snarky Metafilter. Check out these Weight Watcher recipe cards from 1974. Seriously, you must click on each and every one of them. You will laugh, you will cry, you will retch, you will sigh. Funny, funny stuff.

Art Carney, dead at 85. No offense, but I didn't know he was alive.

And finally, McDonald's get its comeuppance when Merriam-Webster tells it to stuff its "concerns" about the dictionary's inclusion of McJob in its new edition. (via Fark) I'm lovin' it.

Walkie Talkie

Mia is moments away from walking. Every so often she takes those three Frankenstein steps and then falls back on her bottom. I'm not sure whether to praise her or act like it's just one of those things. Cuz for her it is. So I say, Great Mia. Great Walking. If I'm too enthusiastic, she will freak out and lose her concentration. But it is so cool. My little Bride of Frankenstein. I don't know what compels her to take those steps. She isn't at all into being led or coaxed. But what a neat thing to watch. That girl is the bomb.