Weekend Update

This image is to coincide with our Weekend Update headline, plus it will make Lola smile as she will someday write a movie or Broadway show for these two ladies to star in (alongside Rosie O’Donnell).

Once again, I just wanted to update the Spew-Heads on the week that was. Lola will be back here soon, so don’t worry. She is really doing an incredible job at taking care of her Mom. She has such a grasp of all the medicine that is part of her Mom’s daily regime (and there are oodles of medicine) and is so on top of all the care her Mom needs that it’s clear that she could be a brilliant doctor or nurse. She is quite the caretaker.

I think it’s safe to say that when it comes to her Mom, we have drifted away from good days and bad days to good moments and bad moments. The truth is, no day with this cancer is all that good. It was a rough week with GiGi. Her pain continues and there is difficulty in trying to find the right solution to her pain. More drugs, new drugs, old drugs, combination of drugs – it’s a crap shoot trying to find the right mixture of prescriptions that relieves our friend of her pain. The hourly question to GiGi is “What’s your Level?” meaning level of pain on a scale of 1 to 10. We are not hearing any 0’s or 1’s. However, in true GiGi fashion, the question makes her laugh. Don’t you love Gigi’s laugh?

The problem with the pain meds is that it has an effect on her breathing, and Gigi is already short of breath (and that sometimes causes brief pangs of anxiety for Gigi which makes her breathing even more labored). It’s scary to watch especially when you know the strain her lungs are already in. To make their Mom more comfortable, Lola and her sister Becky have been taking overnight shifts with her Mom, sleeping on the floor by her side for those moments when GiGi wakes up at night and she is in pain, restless, scared or just awake. These are the moments that this cancer has created.

In the good moments department, GiGi seemed to be in good spirits over the weekend. She was holding court in her family room – talking, laughing and even eating a little. Her pain had somewhat subsided (about a level 4) and we all got to share in her smiles and laughs. The family gathered on Sunday for Barry’s birthday, and everyone seemed happy to be together – at least for those brief moments, and celebrate something.

And then came last night. Lola was going to take a quick jaunt home today to tie up a few things in NH before heading back to RI. So, as I was furiously cleaning the apartment before work today in anticipation (yes ladies, that’s what guys do) when my phone chirped with a new text message. It said, “Rough night. Not sure how today is going to go.” When I finally spoke to Lola, she said her Mom had a really bad night and was having trouble breathing. They felt an ER visit was imminent. To add another small dose of terror to this nightmare, GiGi did not remember talking to her nurse the day before. Through it all, GiGi’s mind has been razor sharp, so the thought of even the slightest bit of forgetfulness scared the crap out of everyone.

When I heard from Lola next, they had decided to take her Mom to the ER. When they started to move her to the car, GiGi became winded. The more short of breath she became, the more scared GiGi became which made breathing even more difficult. They decided an ambulance was needed. The call was made, the ambulance arrived and GiGi and Barry drove off to the hospital with Lola in tow in her own car. We think she will be admitted, but I haven’t heard back yet to confirm.

In fact, I haven’t heard anything yet. So, like you, all we can do is wait. In the bad moments department, this is right up there.

UPDATE: GiGi had fluid drained from her lungs and is feeling a little better. She is admitted for at least the night, so stay tuned. Lola said that they drained "like a forty of beer" from those lungs. Lola's keepin' it real for y'all.

UPDATE 2: Another rough night at the hospital. Lola stayed the night and made sure she was there to comfort her Mom when needed. Leaving her Mom's side when she was so afraid was not something Lola was prepared to do, so they pulled up a recliner, gave her some sheets and let her stay. The bad news was GiGi's roommate, who was preparing for a colonoscopy, was having major blow out throughout the night (what a lullaby). The plan is for GiGi to come home today. Barry was back at the hospital bright and early and Lola went home to rest. If all goes as planned, GiGi will be sleeping at home tonight, although she will likely still be in pain and short of breath. We'll keep you posted.

There is no substitute for the Spew

Attention Spew Readers - Coming this Christmas for a Limited Time Only - Spew Shirts!

Settle down class. Ms. Mellowsky could not be here today, so I will be substituting for her today. Don’t worry – I’ll be brief and liberal with my hall passes.

Lola is, as she has been for a while, by her Mom’s side this week and sad to say, it’s been a rough week. Gigi just can’t seem to catch a break. On Friday, Team Chemo was all packed and ready to go to St. Anne’s for GiG’s next dose, but when they go there, her “numbers” were off so they had to scrap the Chemo plans for that day. Forgive me, I don’t have Laura’s grasp of the medicine behind all the cancer (and few do), but I know the numbers being low was not a good thing. They battled this with a blood transfusion and more meds for the pain. My god – they gave her blood to make her feel better!

Over the weekend, GiG was pretty wiped out. Between the medicine for pain, nausea and breathing, it’s hard to do anything but sleep. And, with family monitoring her constantly, that is what she did. She tried to eat, but could only keep a few things down. As the day wore on, her strength came back a little and she would hold court in her room (of course she had to put on lipstick first). She was even able to eat some of Becky meatballs, but she grows tired fast and soon we all left her to the peace of her slumber, always a daughter (or husband) on hand to be there when she woke up. They never had days like this on The Brady Bunch. When I left them all on Sunday night, GiG was feeling a little better, although still sleeping so I didn’t get to say goodbye.

But the nights seem to be the hardest for our friend and Monday morning was a different story. She was in pain, trouble breathing and just feeling like crap. When her blood gases fell below a certain level (again, I am not sure if I have that right – I just know the numbers were bad), the decision was made to go to the hospital. Monday was spent in the ER. She was given some pain meds that gave her some relief and they were also able to take a CAT Scan which was scheduled for later in the week. She was there until after dark, opting to come home for the comfort of her home rather than trying to sleep in a noisy hospital. In true Mellow fashion, they all came home and had a hamburger feast in the kitchen (GiG ate a little).

My first text from Lola today was that it was more of the same – a rough night (up all night) and a trip back to the hospital seemed imminent. But, a call later gave a little better picture. GiG was sitting up and visiting with Our Tina. They were trying to feed her a little something and she seemed in good spirits. After I was bratty and told her she needed 2 ML of Ringer’s Lactate Stat (My only medical jargon learned from years of watching television), she even spouted back, “If you are not quiet, you’ll get a Compezine suppository.”

So that’s where we are – more of the same. There are more details that I didn’t get into and even more tears that I will save for Lola to pass along to her devoted readers. As you know, Lola knows her Spew fans like updates, so I am giving the update. Lola will be back soon to bring smiles to all the faces of her Spew-heads (just like she does to mine every day).

Today's post is brought to you by the letter B

I keep my phone turned on and by my bed when I'm in Rhode Island in anticipation of an "I've fallen and I can't get up" call from my mom who's on the other side of the house.

I'm thinking of investing in Walkie Talkies; I would be sleeping right now had my sister Becky not texted me shortly before 6am to check on my mom. She has been forgiven and now given credit for supplying me with the handful of minutes (that's not an expression) I needed to scrape together today to update.

Most important, I still have a virgin colon (and am resisting all sorts of jokes there...).

I did end up canceling the appointment but not because you all frightened me with your tales of fecal woe (which you did!). Dan's uncle, a man of legend in his family and community (as it sounds from the turnout at the funeral) passed away this past Friday night and I canceled my appointment in order to attend the funeral. Though it is always sad to lose one of the world's great souls, his death was not unexpected and hopefully brought the man some relief as he was in his 80s and had been ill for a while. Dan said the funeral was a great tribute and also quite the service with Archbishop of Connecticut delivering the mass as Dan's uncle was a priest. Though I wish I could have been there, I did not end up attending as my mom has been struggling more than ever these past few days and it wasn't the time to leave her.

As always, she is fighting the battle of pain and vomiting, both of which are stripping her of strength and energy (not to mention joy). We are trying to find the right combination of medications to alleviate her suffering but have learned that it's not as easy as simply taking a pill as what works for one person does not work for another. Also, the body gets used to pain meds pretty quickly such that the the dosage needs constant evaluating and upping. For my mom, who has always been weary of over-medicating, this is an adjustment. The other part of the balancing act is finding the medication and dose that will stop the pain but also keep my mom's brain sharp and aware and here with us. So, that's the journey. This morning, as every other, I wake up hoping that today she has a better day.

Last night she did finally find relief from the pain but it wasn't until 8pm (and after a bout of vomiting). As soon as she finds relief, her face changes. I can actually see her eyes shift from strain to warmth and she is able to smile which the pain usually prevents (a robbery felt by everyone). I felt sad that the best part of her day was at its ending, but grateful it came and I am hopeful that it carried her through the night. That's the start of my usual line of morning questions I ask when I go to greet her up in her bedroom:

How was the night?

Did you throw up?

How are you feeling this morning?

Can you eat anything?

Where's the pain?

And so on. And throughout the day this same line of questions cycles around as we try to help her find comfort as the hours go on. It's been a tough few days and I can't say otherwise. Still, there have been moments when my sisters and I have hung out on her bed, or sat three of us on the couch, my mom in the middle, watching Lifetime movies and I don't have to wait until later to cherish them.

While I obviously don't want my mom to suffer, I said to her the other night, "I feel kind of selfish because I want you to be here."

She said, "I want to be here too. We want the same thing...And when I don't want to be here and you want me to be here, that's okay too."

Profound moments like this are happening every day now. I watched my mom say goodbye to her visiting sisters, most of whom live out of state, and recognized that this goodbye was the hardest any of them have ever had to say.

It's intense, to say the least.

So, now my handful of morning has passed and it's time to see how Gig is doing today...

Sometimes I just shout it out midday while looking up at the sky, arms pleading, "Give her a break today, will ya?"

Feel free to join me.

Have you seen my boundaries?

So, with things being what they are, it's been a long time since I've written one of those uber-personal posts where you guys get that kind of squirmy uncomfortable feeling because you're learning something about me that you probably didn't need nor want to know. (The words "Raise Head," my response to Dan's getting a pay increase last year, come to mind.) Well, WAIT NO MORE! This will be the KING OF THE OVERSHARES! In fact, you better look around now because you don't want any co-workers or family members catching a glance of your computer screen over your shoulder and realizing what kind of sick-o you truly are.

Today's topic:

I'm having a COLONoscopy. (That was for your nosy cubicle neighbor.)

You have no idea how badly I wish I could go all Katie Couric with this blog and bring you guys into the room with me. We could have a little counter on the screen for all the inappropriate ass jokes I make before going under.

(Just so we're clear, I recognize that colonoscopies are very common and thus not as much of a source of embarrassment as I made it seem---it's not like I'm having genital warts scraped off in high def (too much?)---but I am talking about colons here, my colon in particular, and that kind of feels like a lot.)

The story is this: I have ass issues. Assues, if you will. Nothing crazy, nothing terribly debilitating, nothing we have to go into detail about...but enough consistent irregularities (if you get my drift) that I had to check into things. Given my family history---both my maternal grandparents and an aunt have had colon cancer and other family members have had polyps---the gastroenterologist to whom my GP referred me, thought we should dig deeper (oh, this is such fun for me).

Judy and I just firmed up the details of the appointment today and it's all going down next Wednesday. (Judy and I had great phone rapport. However, as we figured out a day and time that worked and she said that the doctor does procedures from 7am right through to noon and I said, "And then she has lunch?" Judy didn't quite get my joke.) So, that's that. I will have to fast on Tuesday and drink some kind of magic brew and then Dan will deliver me to the hospital Wednesday morning. (I'm pretty sure the prep is worse than what I'm stating here but I've purposely avoided reading about it...though I did read something that told me to avoid red jello which gave me a helluva laugh.) I'll have to go under for the procedure and thus won't be able to drive home so Dan's taking the day off to care for what will be his very sedated wife. (They say redheads require more anesthesia than most. Yes, Dan has already started making jokes about taking advantage of me...what with the doctor's head start and all. Too far?)

When I went to visit the gastroenterologist (a woman...the only way for me) and she suggested the colonoscopy, I was initially fine with the idea. Only hours later did I start to wonder what the hell I had signed up for. Most people don't get colonoscopies until at least 40 and some doctors won't perform them on people any younger because of the risks involved which include bowel perforation (let's pray that the blog title the day after the procedure isn't "Raise your hand if you have a perforated bowel!") or other complications that come with this kind of intervention. Normally this would dissuade me but, again, the family history means I have to be that much more vigilant. I started rethinking things, however, when today on the phone I was asked if I had a living will or a medical power of attorney.

Pardon?

I don't have either, so this will have to act as my will:

I, Lola Mellowsky, hereby declare that should I die during my colonoscopy (which I would not want written on my tombstone...please come up with something quippier or else use a Salt-N-Peppa lyric of your choosing) that I would like the following orders carried out:

1) Don't even tell anyone I died during a colonoscopy. Tell 'em I was found handcuffed to a hotel bed...that would be way less embarrassing.

2) Please bury me next to JFK.

3) Under no circumstances should Sarah McLaughlin be played at the funeral. (Salt-N-Peppa is fine.)

4) All attendees should be required to capture their tears in a graduated cylinder which is to be turned in at the end of the service. Anyone who turns in a contribution of less than 200mL will be locked in the church until they can cry the requisite amount.

5) I don't want a church service.

6) Radio City Music Hall should work.

7) Mr. Dan Lederer will be required to sign a contract stating that he will never remarry or else risk eternal haunting.

8) My rubber band balls are to be distributed evenly among my siblings.

9) My favorite sister should get the most.

10) Please donate all my journals to the most remedial English As A Second Language classes.

***On a final note, I would just like to say thanks to all you FB peeps who wrote such nice things about The Spew today. I absolutely was not gonna show up but seeing what you guys had to say made me remember how fun this can be. Thanks to all of you and to everyone else who keeps showing despite my lack of consistency which is due to a motivational/inspirational rut among other things. I truly appreciate it. Thanks for pushing me out of my funk...That...is...a...what...she...say.

Join us on the chemo train, won't you?

Taken last week...

How much do you guys hate the Real World San Francisco cast after looking at that picture all week? Could've been worse...could've been Las Vegas. (Does anyone beside me even get that? Has anyone---besides my sibling---watched this show in the last 10 years?)

I just want you to know that every single day I am writing blog entries in my head. Someday, when handsfree thought-to-page technology is developed, I will be extremely prolific. Until then...

So, here's where we stand: The last two weeks have been among the hardest since my mom was diagnosed in February. The pain and vomiting have increased and for a few days it was so bad that she didn't leave her bedroom. As I write this though, she has taken an upturn and is presently sitting at her kitchen table with her sister and a friend of theirs from Pelham, NY where the three of them grew up. I am elated to be able to report that. I don't know what tomorrow will bring and the days certainly do vary, but if she can get a visit with loved ones in, she's still living a life.

She did end up doing chemo last week. After weeks of saying she was done with the stuff, a gut feeling ultimately had her choose otherwise. During the drive to see the oncologist on the day she made the call, she asked my dad and me if we would be "terribly disappointed" if she decided to continue with the chemo and we, of course, told her we would support her no matter what. The bottom line is that her oncologist said that she thinks it's her disease causing the pain and the chemo could help. Since the pain cropped up before the last big dose of chemo that was administered during her hospital stay and also continued afterward, there really seems to be no way to know what is what. A gut feeling is about as close to a definitive as one can get in this game, it seems. Oddly, I too, had a strange change of gut regarding the chemo. I've probably been the most skeptical of anyone regarding this course of treatment along the way (though I've learned that all there is to do in this scenario is follow my mom's lead rather than asserting my opinion). Even when she was in the hospital and the doctor gave her the three months or chemo ultimatum, I questioned whether she should go forward with it. But in the weeks following, I felt something shift in me and I felt myself leaning towards continuing with the chemo (though I didn't really voice this either). My mom came to it on her own; it was what she felt she needed to do.

Now, one could argue that this is how any cancer patient or family member is talked into chemo; when the alternative is to do "nothing," of course a person would find a renewed faith in chemo or any treatment for that matter. I recognize that it could be my desperate desire to have more time with my mom that subconsciously shifted my stance. Maybe the same goes for my mom. But what can you do? Time nor certainty are luxuries we are afforded, so you do the best you can. Do I ask myself every day whether I will have regrets regarding the decisions we have made? Yes, every single day I question every single thing and imagine the sickness of regret that will undoubtedly show up, but the only choice is to make impossible decisions while trying to discern whether time or quality of life is of the essence.

But, the idea of the current chemo treatment is to alleviate symptoms and I have thrown myself behind my mom and that plan. May this treatment shrink her tumors and may shrunken tumors make her more comfortable. Please, please, please. Prior to my mom's diagnosis I questioned the idea of palliative chemotherapy. I thought it a torturous measure demonstrating our culture's inability to accept death as a natural part of life. But, again, when it feels like you're out of options and everything is on the line, you do what you, I've since learned. Still, if I'm being honest, having witnessed how sick my mom is as a result of the chemo, I'm not sure it's something I would do were the cancer mine...specifically lung cancer. I should also state here that there are obviously many stories of people (including lung cancer patients) who have had success with chemotherapy and I certainly am not trying to minimize or discredit that. However, with stage IV lung cancer, chemotherapy is not considered a curative measure which is why there is such debate regarding whether its side effects are worth the benefit. We're banking on the benefit at this point. The goals now---it will probably take at least one more session before we know if it's working---are pain management and also keeping my mom eating (despite the vomiting) so that she can maintain her strength. They upped her meds yesterday and she's been pain-free all day, a huge feat, and also hasn't been sick since this morning (and thus kept two cups of soup, some fruit and a little jello down) which is also huge. Fingers crossed for tomorrow.

A nurse from the local Visiting Nurses Association came to the house today. My mom is enrolled in what they call "bridge," which is a bridge to hospice program that suits her needs since she is currently not considered end-stage but has a "terminal diagnosis." A nurse will come twice a week to assess my mom's health and help manage her meds as the combinations may change as things go along. I liked Carolyn very much and feel glad that my mom will be getting this kind of consistent care. Still, when I really think about the the fact that she's in a pre-hospice program (which I try not to do), the stark reality of everything sets in and I want to scream "How the fuck did we get here?"

And then I change the subject because there is another focus of life right now and it's not to be overlooked; that is celebrating my mom and helping her to enjoy each day as much as she can. Such words are the stuff of graduation cards and self-help books, but it is a literal goal we are all trying to help her achieve (and still I---and probably you---strive to embrace that one need not be facing death to work towards such a thing). And there have been wonderful moments. Last Friday night, most of my sisters (and a couple of husbands and a nephew) made it to the house for a big Italian dinner around the dining room table, a bowl of spaghetti passing between hands. At one point when I was taking the trash out, I could hear the sports announcer from the high school just up the street providing a play-by-play of the Friday night game. As I lingered in the darkness, the voices of the crowd and later the band carrying over the quiet of the fall night as it had when I attended that high school, and my sisters before me, it felt like a different time, another life.

I was bone tired as we sat and talked around the table after the meal, having been at the hospital all that day for chemo. My mom, plenty of sedative drugs still in her system, was closing her eyes at the table.

"Mom, do you want to go lie down?" I asked her.

She looked around the table at everyone and then gave me a smile that said she was grateful for my concern but also not interested in taking my advice.

"Not yet," she said tenderly.

And I got it. She rather be asleep at that table than anywhere else in the world.

That's the plan we're really supporting.

MTV smut has its value.

This was the first cast that hooked me...and it's been helping me avoid my problems ever since. Thank you Bunim/Murray. (I just read that Mary-Ellis Bunim, co creator of The Real World and Road Rules, died of breast cancer at 57. Huh.)

You guys, I know...

But would it make it better if I admitted that the reason that I'm not writing a lengthy post right now is because I need to watch Real World New Orleans on my sister's supah Cable while Molly, the niece's pieces, is at gymnastics?

Long story short: Last Friday, instead of staying put in NH for the weekend as planned, I ended up speeding down to RI after having a conversation with GiG on the phone and hearing the struggle in her voice. As I headed down 95, I actually found myself praying, "Please let me see her one more time. Please let me see her."

And, of course, I got to and, of course, I will again. She had a rough week though. Lots of pain, lots of throwing up, lots of hair loss. One night I woke at 3:30am to find her sitting up on the couch unable to sleep due to the pain and the two of us stayed awake watching movies and waiting for it to pass, which didn't occur until nearly 12 hours later. It's excruciating to watch someone you love in that kind of pain...I can't even imagine how hard it is for her. Chemo was called off last week and tomorrow's appointment with the oncologist will likely determine whether it's called off for good. She has some good days and some terrible ones, but the big decisions are still looming. That's the CliffsNotes version.

Right now, however, I'm up in NH watching Mol while Bec is on a trip for work. It makes my world that the kiddo still asks to sleep in the big bed with me when I stay over. As much as she kicks, I love waking up and seeing her in the middle of the night and it's always fun to play house and do the breakfast, ponytail, send the nugget off on the bus thing. I just dropped her off at the gym, a place I first took her to five years ago when she was only three. Then, I had to hold her hand and walk her down the stairs in order to get her to join the rest of the class. Now, while she waits for class to begin she pretty much ignores me in an effort to up her badassedness ranking within the gymnastics community. (I totally get the move, though I expect that in a few years time---at the most---she'll realize the riches of cool aunt with which she is spoiled.)

So, that's the story.

The true story...

The Real World: Incompetent Blogger

Prescription Television

The white streak is dried Fluff. Ben. Der.

So, the picture above sums up why I haven't been blogging. I've been in a spoonful-of-peanut-butter-and-pile-of-chocolate-morsels-in-a-bowl-kind-of-place. I got back from RI on Monday night after several emotion-dense days (which may or may not have been influenced by PMS...same goes for the chocolate and peanut butter binge) and it was just too much to narrate at the time. That just seems to be how things are feeling lately.

As I type, just to catch you up, my mom is enjoying a nice getaway in Chatham on the Cape with my Dad. She's been vomiting steadily and her pain came back with some intensity, but after managing it with medication, my parents decided to skip town. She seems to be fighting a bit of cold (hopefully, that's all it is) so I'm not sure whether chemo is in the cards for this Friday, though whether or not my mom will opt to continue treatment is still a topic of much discussion; a discussion that my mom, dad and I sat tearfully around the table talking through while I was down there; a discussion that, sitting outside it for just this minute, I can't believe we are in. But, right now, she is taking in an ocean-view and I have retreated to my couch and decisions are second to life.

I find I'm beat when I get back to NH after my visits to RI. I have a cold sore (and, perhaps, a second one on the rise), what feels like a sty coming through (sexy, I know) and that scary tickle of sickness in my throat. (And just so we're really clear, every time I fall off the nutrition wagon as I have over this last month---EVERY. TIME.---it ends in illness.) So, I'm trying to recharge and treatment in this case has come in the form of back-to-back episodes of Mad Men. I had never watched this show (crappy cable, remember?) but we pushed through the first season in less than 24 hours and are just starting its second (via Netflix). Dan and I were both hesitant, skeptical of the hype as we often are, but it's a fantastic show. While feminism and sexual freedom are practically synonymous with the mid to latter half of the 1960s (and have been depicted to death on TV and in movies), Mad Men look at the sprouting seeds of these themes in the early 60s (and under the poodle skirts of women everywhere). It's a orgy of cigarettes, adultery, repressed homosexuality, alcoholism, sexism, sexiness, sexual awakening, sexuality in advertising and all the other makings of any seedy underbelly...I could write like 15 high school essays on this show. (All of this takes me away from cancer for a minute. We tried to get into the show Breaking Bad but as its main character is afflicted with terminal lung cancer, it didn't exactly provide the same service...and I had to shut that shit right off.)

There have, however, been other EXTREMELY IMPORTANT things going on.

First, and I can't believe I've been holding this one back, the neighbor is moving out. (I did it, guys. I pushed her away to save her from further hurt later on.) I got the news from another tenant in our building. (The one whom I once saw packing rifles into the trunk of his car...not to be confused with the one we saw skinning a deer outside our kitchen window. Two totally different people.) He also told me that our landlord's sister will be moving into her place which feels kind of like I'm getting stuck with the room next to the chaperones during the eighth grade Washington trip. I haven't crossed paths with the neighbor in weeks and at this point I'm hoping she will slip away silently in the night so we can avoid any awkward good byes and empty promises to keep in touch. Though, I do have a Bodyguard-like scene playing in my head where, instead of stopping the plane, she puts her Hyundai into park, and runs out to give me one last hug before driving away. (By the way, she's only moving to Portsmouth, so the chances of our running into each other again in life are pretty strong...what if I find out where she lives and this sick little game continues...it would be for my art!)

The second big piece of news, and I'm sure you're all aware of this by now, is that The Oprah Farewell Season has begun! That means I only have 127 chances (episodes) left to get on. (I'm okay with debuting on her new network though. I've gotten comfortable with the idea.) I have to say, I like the feel of this season; very nostalgic. I'm weak for depressing music and video montages so Ms. O is doing me just fine so far. I'll check in on this matter as the season progresses.

Other than that, I'm just breathing in the fall air and getting on with it. Splashes of reds and yellows are showing themselves in the trees and Dan has already started rolling out the fall menu: last week it was the creamy chicken and rice soup, this week it's "stained glass windows": a confection which involves rolling melted chocolate and mini marshmallows into a log (and rolling that in shredded coconut) and then freezing it. When you slice the log, the chocolate circles and marshmallows have the appearance of stained glass windows. Delicious, of course, but isn't it a little early for holiday baking? As I say this, I am noticing the makings for fudge sitting on my counter. God give me the strength.

Dan is home and Don (Draper) is calling my name (though it should be said that the red-headed secretary is the hottest one on the show and this is not me being biased...) so I am off because

If I should stay,
I would only be in your way.
So I'll go, but I know
I'll think of you every step of the way.

And IIIIIII will try to blog soon.
III will try to blog soon.