This blog is not about cancer.

 It’s about people; people who just happened to also have cancer.

My life was first affected by cancer when I was 11 years old.  My cousin Sheryl had it and I did not understand at all.  I did not understand why she was sick when she looked fine.  I did not understand why we always had to leave places early because she was tired but she looked fine.  She didn’t look sick.  I just didn’t understand.  Then one day they told me she had died.  I didn’t understand that either.  She had not looked sick and she did not have an accident…why did she die?  I just didn’t understand.

At her funeral, the preacher said something that has stuck with me for all these years.  He said that when you have a dinner party and you want flowers for your table…you go and pick the prettiest ones out of the garden to display.  He said that sometimes God chooses the prettiest flowers from His garden and brings them to his table.  Meaning that God had chosen Sheryl to come and be with him.  At the time, I found this comforting.  Today, with my logic brain and my general disbelief in God…I find it selfish.  However, it really doesn’t matter because I don’t believe it either way.  I just believe that cancer is a cruel bitch and takes people who don’t deserve to die.

The most memorable time cancer has had an effect on me is when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer.  I knew absolutely nothing about it.  I only knew that my mom had it and that she would have to have medical procedures and chemotherapy.  Because of the way my life was back then…I didn’t get to spend very much time with her while she was going through this and I regret it to this day.  I wish I had been there for her.  Fortunately for us all…my mother survived her ordeal and has been cancer free for many, many years now.  Because of this, I learned a lot about breast cancer and am active in supporting the search for a cure by raising money and being involved in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure and other events as I am able.

A few years ago, a dear friend also had breast cancer.  She also survived.  I am fortunate to have two breast cancer survivors in my life.  Many people are not so lucky.  I count myself blessed.

The most recent time my life has been affected by cancer … is yesterday.  July 19, 2011.  My friend Tyna went in for surgery.  A surgery we all expected her to fully recover from although it was going to have a major affect on her life.  But Tyna was very positive about this surgery and felt like it was a good choice and that things were looking up.  She had been through a lot with her sickness and had been battling a while.  She felt like the surgery was the first step in improving her quality of life.  Unfortunately, Tyna did not survive.  I was so shocked that I sat in front of my laptop with my mouth hanging open.  Then I sat in front of it and cried.  I cried for her…I cried for her family…I cried for all those that loved her and I cried because I didn’t get to know her as well as I wanted too.  I cried because I’d been invited to a “Pre-Op Barbecue” someone had thrown for her and I didn’t go.  I missed my last chance to see her.  But mostly I cried because the world lost a fighter and a genuinely positive and light bearing human being.

Tyna was one of my cast mates at Scarborough Faire.  She never complained of her disability unless it was a little joke she made.  She appreciated everything anyone did to help her and was whole hearted in her thanks.  Despite the difficulty she faced, she lived her life as if nothing was wrong.  She was in school…she was on cast at Scarborough…she had a crush on a boy.  She didn’t wallow in self pity or rage at the world for her poor lot in life.  She was courageous and had tremendous spirit.

Just before her surgery, she cut all her hair off into a super cute pixie cut and colored it teal.  She looked so cute.  She was a little blue pixie.

She played Rosie Locke at Scarborough Faire.  She was the locksmith’s wife.  My character, Emma, liked Rosie very much.  We were friends.  Emma carries several keys on her belt.  Two she can account for as they unlock her Apothecary and a cabinet inside.  The others are mystery keys and Emma is sure that some day she will find the locks they unlock.  Last night, a teal ribbon was tied around one of the keys.  One of the mysteries is solved.  That key unlocks a memory.  A memory of a blue haired pixie named Tyna that Lynn loved…and a sweet, young wife named Rosie, who Emma loved.

Rest well, Blue Pixie.  You will be remembered.  You will be missed.  In all my worlds.

Holy Weird Comparisons!

My husband and I are so very different from the outside looking in, that sometimes I wonder if people try to figure out how we possibly get along.  Or maybe everyone really believes that saying, “opposites attract”.  Either way – on paper, my husband and I do not appear to be compatible at all.

He’s an English Major who graduated from A&M.  I’m a high school drop out.

He is all about clothes and fashion.  I can barely match colors and tend to dress outdated.

He likes Kylie Minogue and dance music.  I like 80’s metal and doom metal.

He reads high minded literature.  I read vampire novels.

He plays a ton of video games.  I get nauseous playing Tomb Raider.

This is just the short list of things that are very different about us.  However…somehow we work.  We do have things we both like.  Firefly.  Lord of the Rings.  Comic book movies.  Mardi Gras.  Traveling.  Being nerds.  And most of all…each other.  We really do seem to like each other.  That’s important.  Especially since we’re married.

One of the many things on the longer list of differences between us…is how we think.  My husband has a tendency to think in the clouds.  That whole, all things are possible, let’s move this mountain, kind of thinking. Oh, there’s a building in the way?  We’ll just leap over it in a single bound.  It will be fine.  No, really.

Me?  No…I am pragmatic to a fault.  I will break down every problem to it’s very basic elements and solve it in the most reasonable way possible.  Oh, there’s a building in the way?  Ok…let’s get a map and look at the building and find the quickest and easiest way around it and proceed.  While we have the map, let’s make sure there are no other buildings ahead and if there are, let’s go ahead and plan for those too.

We talked about this one night and decided that in the comic book world…he is Superman.  He is the Man of Steel.  He will simply fly away or leap over the building or stand against the hail of gunfire.  He will not understand why the criminal feels the need to shoot at us because certainly there is some good in him somewhere and he can be rehabilitated.  He will take the high road and do the right thing … because it’s the right thing to do.  He will fly backward around the Earth and reverse time and that will fix the problem!

So…this makes me Batman.  I am logical…methodical…a little darker…but well meaning.  I will find the right tool for the job.  I have to take cover from the hail of gunfire so I don’t die.  I know that the criminal is 90 percent likely to be a worthless bucket full of dumbass (to paraphrase a writer I admire…) and that I need to either get him under control and in jail or take him out if I absolutely have to.  I will do what needs to be done, because it needs to be done.  I will do what I have to do and what no one else wants to do, because that’s who I am.  I will have anguish over my mistakes and it will eat away at me that I couldn’t save everyone or fix everything.  But I will forgive myself as best I can, because I’m human.

Over-think it much, Lynn?  Um…duh.

But yeah…that’s the basics of it.  We are Superman and Batman.  But as shown in some versions of comics that put these two together…while they are incredibly different – they are somehow able to work together and make things happen.  Get the bad guys.  Save the day.  It’s what they do.

My husband and I may not have to get the bad guys or save the day.  We may not have to risk our lives or be heroes.  But we make our differences work for us.  The most heroic thing I may do for him is find his wallet when it’s lost.  The biggest heroic thing he may do for me is bring me my favorite food when I’m sick.

But at the end of the day…he’s my hero…and I like to think I’m his.

The Eyes Have It...

“Are those your real eyes?” Can you imagine someone asking you that?  Welcome to my world.  I have been asked this on many occasions.  Literally.  Word for word.  That question.  Of course, my first response is to the very literal meaning.  Are they real?  Are they mine?  So the obvious obnoxious answers are usually things like “No, I borrowed them from the neighbor’s dog.”  Or, “No, I stole them from a dead guy.”  Because…come on.  Hello?  Are they mine?  Well they ARE in my head.  Are they real?  As opposed to what?  Because guess what…if they are not real and I have glass eyes…how rude were you to ask me that?

I know some of you are shaking your heads.  But I really have been asked this and have had some of the most ridiculous things said to me in this general vein.  Let’s see if I can quote a few.

“Nobody’s eyes are that color.”  Huh?

“Wow…they don’t even look real.”  Oh, thanks.

“No way.” As he flicked his lighter in my face to get a better look.

Or…at the top of the list…”Not fair!” babbled at me in Japanese as my sister in law stomped on the floor like a little child.

I’m sure all of these were meant as a compliment.  They were just cleverly disguised as absurdity.

Most of the time, these comments have been made by men who were trying – in some ridiculous manner – to flatter me by implying that my eyes are so beauteous that they could not possibly be real.  So I guess I’m actually supposed to blush and flutter and be all flattered.  However…it’s such a generally dumb question that I can rarely see the compliment through the stupidity.

Don’t get me wrong…I appreciate a good compliment.  It’s just that this is not really a “good” compliment.  It’s silly.  Do you really think my eyes are beautiful?  Then say “Wow, your eyes are beautiful.”  I’d even be happy with “You have pretty eyes.”  If all else fails you can even go with, “Nice peepers.”  Just say what you mean.  Don’t try to disguise it with some clever bit of random so you don’t sound like you’re hitting on me.

And for the love of parsley…if I decide to NOT be an obnoxious bitch – yes, it does happen…sometimes…and I simply respond that yes, they are in fact, real…and mine…please oh please do not try to further compliment me by insisting that it is not possible.  If you did not intend to believe the answer, you should not have asked me the question!  Egad. 

Yes…I’m sure many women put on color contacts to make their eyes some unusual and interesting color.  Good for them.  It’s fun to do stuff like that.  Hell, I haven’t seen my natural hair color in 25 years.  I’m all for fun enhancements.  I just don’t see how asking me if I’m wearing some is supposed to be seen as a compliment.  I mean…do these guys go up to a woman with a nice rack and say, “Wow…are those real?”  Do they look at the girl with the hour glass figure and say, “Nice curves, are you wearing a girdle?”  Of course not!  So why is it a compliment to ask me if I’m wearing contacts?

It really sounds like I don’t appreciate the fact that someone is trying to compliment me and that’s really not true.  Although I’m not great at accepting compliments, I do try to be gracious when they are given.  Even if I don’t agree with what is said - which is often.

I just wish that if you were going to give me a compliment…you would actually put some thought into it first and make an intelligent statement.  It’s really not that difficult.

Hey…reader…yeah, you…the one reading this blog…you have good taste in reading materials.  See what I did there?

All my ex's live in Texas.

 

I used to really love George Strait.  He was so cute and all cowboy and blue collar, regular guy with a sweet little, slightly crooked smile.  Of course, I was twelve years old at the time and my ideas about these things were very different.  I still find George Strait’s voice to be pleasant and comforting and I like that he was never one of those stars that had lots of drama and headlines.  He seems like a neat guy.

But George Strait is honestly not the topic of this particular ramble.  The first time I heard that song, I didn’t really grasp all the meanings.  I was about 16-17 when it came out, but I didn’t really have many ex’s so I didn’t really give it a lot of thought.

As for me…I’ve always lived in Texas so for the most part, all my ex’s really ARE in Texas.  Fortunately, I do not have such fire with them that I need to be in another state in order to avoid them!

Yeah…so this ramble is brought to you by the letter X and the number 5.  The reason for the number 5 is that 5 is the number of “ex’s” I feel like I truly have.  Now…maybe I’m completely off here…but doesn’t that seem like a really low number of ex’s to have?  I know girls half my age who already have more ex’s than that.  So to me…this seems like a really low number.

I don’t count the puppy love crushes like Robert Calloway from second grade, with whom I was truly smitten and who gave me my first valentine candy and kissed me on the playground.  Even though I cried over him when I had to move and go to a different school.  He was blonde and blue eyed and set the first bar for what I liked a boy to look like.  All my dreamy 10-12 year old stories had me with a blonde haired, blue eyed boyfriend.  But still…we were only 8 years old.  So I don’t really count him as an “ex”. 

My first real boyfriend…the first one that I considered serious…was Tommy.  We started “going out” when I was about 13 or 14 years old.  I believe he was about 17 at the time.  I know that sounds a little weird…but if you’d seen me at 13 you might have thought differently.  I didn’t look my age.  I don’t think I’ve looked my actual age since I was about 11 years old.  I started looking older when I hit about 12…and somehow started looking younger when I hit about 28.  But that’s another ramble too.  So Tommy liked me and I liked him…and “going out” consisted of going to the skating rink in his van or riding around town…or him coming over.  It also included many notes we wrote to each other in class and exchanging at random times….and him writing my name on his arm with a permanent marker.  Oh the drama.  He came and met my parents…they loved him.  It was all too much.  In the end…too many people made fun of him for my being so young and he “broke up” with me.  But we still spent time together and a few months after all that – he ended up moving in with my family and living with us for a few years.  So he’s a friend of my family and a friend of mine…still to this day.  I do count him as an “ex” though.

The next one that was a serious boyfriend…was named Steve.  I started going out with him when I was 15.  He was my first – yeah, THAT first.  He is also the biological father of my daughter…who was born just 11 months after that first.  It happened quickly.  We broke up before I found out she was on the way.  In fact, we had broken up once before when he cheated on me…then we broke up the second time when I found out how many drugs he was doing.  Then he tried to get us back together based on the baby…but it didn’t work out.  I dated someone else while pregnant…but do not see that guy as being an “ex” because it just never got that serious.  Now…I don’t talk to that ex…I think he’s worthless.  He never tried to be part of my daughter’s life and didn’t pay child support until I sued him for it when she was 16 and even then he somehow thought he shouldn’t have to pay.  So yeah…we are not friends…but I do not feel the need to get out of town to be away from him.  He should be considerably more afraid of me.  I am the stable one.

After that…was Darren.  We met when I was 17.  And he personified my new desire in a boy.  He had long hair and played guitar.  At 17 I was all about big hair and hair bands.  And finding a boy in my small town who played guitar and had long hair…well that was just about as good as it could get.  We had a crazy relationship that lasted for a little over a year before I got antsy and felt too tied down at 18 and things weren’t working.  We split and then ended up back together about a year or so later and got married.  We had my son…and then were together that time a total of 4 years before I realized he was just not going to change and I had to get out if I wanted to live my life without being miserable.  So I left him when I was 23.  Needless to say…we were not able to stay friends and had MAJOR issues for many years.  However…these days, now that the kids are grown and we are both a lot more sane and grown up…we actually have pleasant conversations and laugh a lot when we talk.  It’s nice.  So, no need to get out of town for that one either.

Anyway, yeah…there I was…23 years old, getting divorced and the mother of two children.  I am sure I was every guy’s dream with all that baggage.

Shortly after I left him…I started dating a guy I met while he and I were married.  I had actually been friends with this guy and his wife…but they had separated shortly before Darren and I.  His name was Steve.  You’d think I would know better than to date another Steve but wow was I infatuated with this one.  We had a seriously tumultuous relationship and we dated off and on and in and out and wow it was a long story…for about 5 years.  The last year of it, we were “exclusive”…but he sideswiped me out of nowhere and broke it off…just a few months after I’d moved to a new city mostly to be closer to him.  Thanks!  So that was pretty horrible for the first few months but eventually he and I came to be friends again.  And we shared a little time here and there between other relationships…it was a thing.  Steve and I are still friends to this day.  Good friends.  We talk, we occasionally see each other, I support his band efforts and we just have a connection.  I think he’s my favorite ex and that we will always be friends.  I also think he was the first one who ever truly owned my heart…and broke it.

Over the next year or two, I dated a few guys here and there but the one that became a relationship, was Lewis.  That one lasted about 9 months and boy, talk about dramatic.  Lewis was an incredibly intelligent and incredibly talented guy…but he does not think like regular people.  His brain processes are unlike almost anyone I’ve ever met.  And while we had some really good times together…we had some REALLY bad ones too.  After we broke up we tried to stay friends…and we managed for a quite a long time and then through a series of psychotic events…we ceased to be friends for a while.  In the years since, we have tried to be friendly here and there and are currently on a very careful, friendly swing.  We chat here and there…we do pyro together…we very occasionally email.  That kind of thing.  So there’s one more that I don’t feel the need to get far, far away from. 

After him, I dated here and there…but nothing serious until I met Adam.  Adam is my husband.  He did not hit the first bar of blonde hair and blue eyes.  He did not hit the second bar of long haired musician.  He had short hair, dark eyes and he was an aspiring DJ who listened to music I totally didn’t get.  He was a well educated English major who worked at a law firm.  I was a little intimidated by this…being a high school drop out who lived paycheck to paycheck.  But in the end…he turned out to be everything I needed and we’ve been together almost ten years now.  He has set that bar so high that I hope I don’t ever have need to find someone who can reach it.

So those are my five ex’s.  They all live in Texas.  I have a friendly rapport with most of them and no fear of any of them and no need to be in another state to avoid them.  George Straight…your song is real cute and so are you.  All my ex’s live in Texas too but I’m so not moving to Tennessee.