My dad turns 78 on his next birthday. He has lived a life full of faith and has always looked to the end goal...Heaven. I have never heard my dad utter a curse word...seriously...never. I remember vividly the one time I heard the word 'heck' come out of his mouth. I almost fell out of my chair. He never (and I mean NEVER) speaks an unkind word about anyone...no matter what they have done. He doesn't smoke...he doesn't drink...he exercises...he tithes...he cared for my precious mom until the day she died...they just don't make them like my dad. I am so blessed. But apparently there are some things that living a life of goodness don't exempt you from.

My sweet dad has been diagnosed with cancer...I hate that word.

Okay, I confess. I am addicted to nails. Not the hammer type...the finger nail type. I specifically like the type you glue on...yes, really. Since my lupus diagnosis my nails have become an object of annoyance. My nails no longer grow much and when they do grow they are strangely shaped and very thin. I asked the doctor and she just shrugged and said...can't help you.

She couldn't help me but CVS could. They sell the glue-on manicure of my dreams. Why don't I get acrylics? Because they HURT. I refuse to suffer torture for nails. The only problem with the glue-on variety...the glue...that stuff is seriously sticky! Today I glued my fingertip to the keyboard. So much for the 'f' key...pulled that sucker right off and then pulled off the skin on my finger trying to the get the 'f' key off!

I suppose it's better than the last time I did my nails...I glued my hand to my hair...don't ask.

Sweet DQ came home from school Monday talking about 'the big dance' that was scheduled for Friday. I remember dances in school...mostly because I wasn't allowed to go...except for the ones I went to on the sly...instead of being at a friend's house like I told my parents...okay, my behavior as a kid is a WHOLE nother story. Anyway, they were dances...you know...music, dim lighting, decorations, dancing. Middle school dances today are a different breed of function. There is a dancing room...if you call that music and dancing. There is also a game room (gym) for basketball, screaming, tag and general rowdiness.

So DQ talks about the dance all week. She buys the wrist band, makes plans to meet friends, convinces her dad to volunteer (I did my time last semester...really...once per year is enough). She comes home Friday and this is the conversation we had:

Me: So, what do you want to wear tonight to the dance?

DQ: With a look of complete disdain...uh, I'm wearing what I have on.

Me: You mean the t-shirt and ratty jeans you wore to school??

DQ: Mom, it's just a dance...NO ONE dresses up. You think I want to look cute??

Me: Well, could you at least brush your hair?

DQ: No...Mom when will you understand that the girly stuff just isn't me?

Since when is brushing your hair girly? Since when are t-shirts and ratty jeans appropriate attire for a dance? What is this world coming to?

We are prisoners in our own home. This area is just not equipped for snow and single-digit temperatures. This mom is not equipped for three days straight, cooped in the house, with my ENTIRE family. The kids stayed home from school Monday because they were sick...now they are well...and I can't get rid of them!

So I sent them outside to play...forgetting that would mean a HUGE indoor mess...snow all over the floor, wet clothing, frozen hands...you get the picture.

AND today makes DAY 4...sheesh...

40 b00ks...That's how many DQ has to read this school year. She can't just read them. She has to do a project for each as PROOF that she read them. 40 b00ks. That is more than one per week. It is almost October...she's managed to read one. Okay, correction, WE have managed to read one. I'm not sure what happens in her head when she reads silently...but I can tell you...it's not reading. She remembers nothing of what she reads unless we do it orally. 40 books...I wonder how many she has to read to pass...what do you think...30?

On top of the books...that we are...trying to read...she has MATH homework almost daily. Clearly I slept through my math classes cause I have NO clue how to help her most of the time. Which is okay since she doesn't want MY help...only her dad's. I am chopped liver these days...is that a requirement of being a pre-teen...being rude to your mother? Okay, okay, she's not actually rude...she just doesn't believe I know anything about...well...anything. Bless her.

In addition to the 40 b00ks...and the math...she has to practice...her clarinet every night. Have you ever heard a beginning clarinet player? Yeah, think dying duck squawk...that's the sound reverberating through my home each and every day. She hates math, hates reading but LOVES the clarinet...go figure.

And on top of all of DQ's homework I still have my own. Why the HECK did I think being in grad school for four years was a good idea? I should have stopped after the first master's degree...really...I am SICK of homework.

I've lost the ability to blog. I don't know what's happened but every time I sit down with something to say, I talk myself out of saying it. But I'm working on it...sort of...

Today's good note -

DQ has eyebrows again! She would croak if she knew I wrote that but since this is technically anonymous and no one reads it anyway...there it is. Her eyebrows and eyelashes are growing back. Bless her pediatrician for the med change. Bless the darn bully for living in another attendance zone and going to another middle school. And bless DQ for growing up a bit and learning some coping skills.

the not so good -

Today I'm sick of lupus. I hate being tired and achy. I hate my darn liver because now I can't eat anything worth eating...although...it has led to weight loss so maybe it's not all bad. For the first time I wonder if this lupus business is going to impact the rest of my life...I'm thinking it might. No chocolate, no alcohol, no ice cream, no high fat anything, no spice anything...what the heck is left? (Yeah, yeah, I'm happy it's lupus and not something worse. I'm thankful I can eat at all...just saying.)

and the blegh -

Tomorrow's my birthday, I'm officially old...as if I wasn't old today... While I am busy aging, the Stepford Sister is busy doing triathlons...seriously. I'm thinking there is something really, really wrong with this picture. But I am choosing to ignore it.

I apparently chose the wrong profession for my lifestyle. Now, before you start thinking I have some kind of champagne taste...that couldn't be further from the truth. I simply have too darn many thinks breaking and/or growing these days!

First, we had the invasion of the carpenter ants. Those suckers do a ton of damage...we caught them in time...maybe. We did make repairs...ourselves...in the rain...okay, that's a story for another day. I will say I screamed like a girl when I pulled off the window sill and saw an entire nest of ants scurrying around. Disgusting, really.

Then we had the garage door fiasco. Who knew a garage door could split right down the middle. And of course we have the giant door...not the little ones. New ones do not come cheap and no one sells used ones...unfortunately.


I won't even go into detail about the emergency room visit...from H%$^. Let's just say it was a pricey visit. And not one I plan to repeat ever in my lifetime.

DQ decided to hit a growth spurt this summer. I am truly thankful she is growing...and so is she. But she grew two sizes in three months! Nothing she owns fits so she is getting a whole new wardrobe...a few pieces at a time.

So today, my car window goes down...and will not come back up. Okay, is my karma bad? Did I do something really bad and this is payback? Yeah, I know, it's just my darn luck. So the Nissan house is happy to fix my window...which has a bum motor...who knew my window had its' own motor. Of course they have to order parts...and take the door apart...and...and...



So, if you've seen a money tree lately. Send some seeds my way! Thanks.