Comments on Comments: First Week of November

When I threatened to become more extreme than "old ladies who wear purple," Helen asked if I plan to head to a nudist beach in Florida.

I've thought about it. But having gone through one kind of cancer, I can't imagine putting myself at that much greater risk for another. e.g. Skin. Florida sunshine.

Do nudists have a higher rate of skin cancer than the rest of the population? Do they buy sunscreen in bulk? Do they apply it. . .everywhere?

Speaking of sunshine, Amanda testifies to the delight of Colorado sunshine. 300 days of it a year and, I hasten to add, no humidity.

Now that Bryan and I are looking to stay here for the long term, I find that common military-family mechanism of "detachment" sloughing away. As we've moved around so much, I naturally kept a little piece of my heart back from wherever we were, because we were never going to be anywhere very long. I haven't done that with the people I've known in each place, just with the place itself.

There's no holding back now. I am growing to love Colorado Springs. I might even make a weekly feature about it if the rest of my life becomes boring enough, and that feature would begin with the climate.

Gwen posted here about giving an NHS speech at good ole Immaculate Conception. Gwen is married to Larry, my friend who survived "ventricular" cancer, and she was in our graduation class, though Gwen and Larry were not high school sweethearts. (Which I've always thought was sweet--that they connected further down the road. . .)

Hearing from Gwen prompts me to comment on something I've been thinking for a long time now: Part of the fun of having cancer is being in touch with so many people, some of them from way back.

I've gotten many, many e-mails from friends who weren't in my life daily anymore. You know the kind: nothing bad ever happened. There's no water under any bridge. You just fell off each other's radar. Maybe military folks have more of this than others because of the moving around. In any case, it's been really neat and wonderfully encouraging to hear from folks. I'm still working on writing back to everyone, so if you happen to be, say, Beth from Korea, I'm getting there. :-)

Sarah gave a Huzzah to the homemade costume. She mentioned that Babs, her mother, made her son's Swiper costume, which was amazing and adorable.

To which I say: Yes, Hoorah for homemade costumes, but double and triple hoorah's for homemade costumes that GRANDMA puts together.

To whit: My mother was in town helping me as my ankle was broken during the weeks before Halloween last year. I'd had the plan for Gemma and Joshua's costume. Had even gathered most of the materials. And then Anne arrived and actually, you know, made the things.

I realize now that my surgery was ill-timed. I should have delayed a few months so the seamstress would have been in residence again.

Finally, more flytrap discussion.

Spiders in Colorado? Yes. We do have a few of those. But I couldn't bring myself to capture one.

a) Spiders eat flys. It seemed an upset of the natural order for a plant that eats flies to eat a bug that eats flys.

b) While I don't like spiders, I respect them. Their amazing little creatures, what with the webs and being able to spell out words above pig stalls. . . No spider deserves the horrible demise of slow digestion inside a flytrap.

Amanda offered to send ladybugs. But ladybugs are among the good guys of the insect world. I couldn't do that to one. And Gemma captured a ladybug this summer and made a pet out of it. We looked up what it needed to survive and she built a little habitat for it. After a few days, she released it into our garden willingly, though it made her sad to do so.

I know there will a come a time when Gemma realizes that I'm not a perfect person who only ever thinks and does the right things. But I don't want that moment to be when I suggest feeding her former pet to a plant.

BUT, the other night, we were playing in our family room when a hapless fly landed on a toy right next to Bryan. He said, "Oh. . .yeah. . ." and swiped it up in his hand!

Then he plunked into one of the terrariums. We gathered around to watch, but the fly hardly moved. It was stunned from its smack-down. And dinner was ready. When we came back to the plant 20 minutes later, there was no fly.

The next morning, one flytrap stood stiff with the sun behind it and there within was the dark outline of the fly.

Flies. They're filthy, disgusting animals. I had no problem participating in that feeding frenzy.

On Friday, Bryan got home early from work and we made a little trip to Green Mountain Falls, a cute little town just up Ute Pass. They have a big pond where we fed the ducks and where the kids played for a while. We ate lunch at a restaurant called the Mucky Duck, which is amusing, because there's a Mucky Duck on Sanibel Island, FL--and what are the chances two places would come up with a name like that?

Our booth was next to a window, and on that window, two flies strutted about. Bryan captured them in an empty plastic bottle. Before I could stop him, he put one into the other plant terrarium. "Stop him" because Gemma and I were conducting an experiment. We wanted to know if the plant that was given protein would do better than the one that had to go without.

Well. So much for that investigation.

Again, we gathered around to watch. This fly was robust and on his feet quickly. Hmm. . . The attraction of sweet nectar in this pink thing here. . . Then SNAP!--only the fly tumbled out and knocked up against the terrarium wall. It seemed disabled and there was goop on the wall where his wing hit. I wonder if the enzyme from the trap was already about its work on him.

All four of us, at the moment of that nap, were like, "Ack!" or "Doh!" or, other reactions common to people who, say, watch football games and react at the moment the amazing catch is almost made.

The fly wouldn't go near the plant again, so we went about our business. Later: no fly.

I mentioned our plants to Mr. Colorado, our neighbor, and he said he used to feed bologna to his.

You know what the most amazing thing about venus flytraps is? That so many people have had one! Amanda, Teresa, the librarian at East Library, Mr. Colorado. . . Here, I thought this would be the kind of thing one had to have a license to own, or something, and I'm finding out they're as common as goldfish.

Well. This is the beauty of comments. I learn so much about you all.

Comments on Comments: Last Week in October

Yesterday's Saturday feature gets moved to today. So, no Sunday Storytime.

I didn't write yesterday for two reasons. The first, on the downside, is that my fingers become increasingly numb from the "T" portion of the "TCH" chemical cocktail. I've felt it each round, with each round being a little bit worse. This time, I finally reached the point where I wouldn't have been able to type well enough to avoid frustration.

It doesn't hurt. More like a very, very dull sense of pins and needles in my hands and especially fingers. So. That was good for a day off.

The second reason is that yesterday was Halloween. Photos and post about that coming this week, I predict. It turned out to be a terrific evening, abnormally warm for these parts. The kids, Bryan and I all had a great time.

Now, to your comments:

One Gerri Dobry posted on line and caused much confusion among my family. Mrs. Jan Dobry lived 4 doors down from us for-practically-ever and this new "Mrs. Dobry" shows up and made them think, "No. Your name is not 'Gerri.'"

No, no, no sisters. My Mrs. Dobry is my literature and history teacher from 7th and 8th grade. "History," though they called it by that abominable term, "Social Studies," because, in truth, she is the first teacher I had who took history seriously and was serious about teaching it. (And the only, I might add, until Mr. Frank Andrew Zdun strode onto the scene my Senior year of high school. "Good luck on your exams." --That was for Sarah and Suzanne. . . )

Yes, yes, so Mrs. Dobry. Also, and more importantly, the first teacher who took literature seriously and opened that window into seeing the power of writing. Maybe a lot of kids have a moment like this at age 13 or 14, but it was in her classes that I saw for certain that writing was something I loved and that I wanted to do, without really knowing much more beyond that.

Well. I could go on. Suffice it to say that the one year I found myself teaching 5-8th graders--a job I got just 2 weeks before the school year began--I sat down and thought, "Square One. How am I going to do this? . . . Well. What did Mrs. Dobry do?"

And I went from there.

And I was a kick-ass teacher.

So how cool is it that Mrs. Dobry is reading my blog??? And has been e-mailing me all along, only perhaps just recently she figured out how to post in the comments. :-)

Speaking of confusion cleared-up, from your comments, we see that some have learned that "puggle," though surely a relative somehow of something Hogwartish ?, is indeed a baby platypus, and you also all know what AWANA stands for.

It's likely I'll go to the meeting tonight, even though chemo patients on day 6 of a round should not go. But aren't you paying attention? I'm done with all that now. And I'm going. I'll just stay out of the little rooms and hand sanitize 6 different times an hour. . .

A bit of discussion about Gramma's stuffed shells. Sister #3 is coming for Round 6, and she can replicate that famous and grand dish that I love so well. Meat? Cheese? Meat and cheese? It doesn't matter. What matters is that they are awesome.

Now, Bryan is leaving the Tuesday morning of Round 6 to help his parents down in Florida. I told him, too bad he's leaving, he's going to miss the shells.

He said why can't we just freeze some for me.

I said this is Gramma's stuffed shells we're talking about. Why not just. . .just. . .freeze the Mona Lisa?

He looked at me askance.

Then Leslie said I was a terrible girl and of course she'd make them while Bryan was here and of course she'd make extra to freeze for later.

Sheesh. You'd think the guy had cancer.

Ah, well, all the same to me. I'll be eating very well that whole week, regardless.

Some comments via the blog and e-mail regarding my conversation about the prettiness quotient. Sounds as though I'm not crazy, which is a relief. A toast to our mutual beauty, ladies!

And dear Helen suggests that I re-visit the topic at age 60. By that time, I plan to be on a completely different page that the mainstream. Old ladies who wear purple will seem normal compared to where I plan to head. . .

Finally, Mom notes that we Ponce's were romping around in a pumpkin patch full of snow, and yet not wearing full-on snow gear. Yep. It's the sun. So warm here.

A snowstorm this week, for instance. Schools were delayed on Monday, and closed on Wednesday and Thursday. By Friday, it was mid-40's and on Saturday, high 50's, all the snow and ice melted, and the kids trick-or-treated with just sweatshirts under their costumes.

Here is the thing I love about Colorado. Well. One of the things: The sun will come out tomorrow, or soon after.

The bleakest storm gets melted away.

Even if it doesn't melt, the wind stops blowing and you can play in it because the sun is so strong, it warms right through the cold air.

Did you know that Scripture calls Jesus The Morning Star--e.g. the sun? With 2 weeks remaining before the last round, that is an image I can bank on.

Comments on Comments

Welcome to a new feature at The Big "C," where I'll be commenting on your various comments from the week. I'm doing this because I miss this kind of interaction from The Name Game posts and because I so appreciate the comments y'all leave.

B, G and J Day! My mother commented that it took her a while to figure out what those letters stand for. But we have Mom to thank for this new Friday feature, because she is the one who commented earlier that she loved reading stories about her grandchildren.

I had hesitated writing much about them because I didn't want to be that kind of mother--the kind who thinks there's nothing more fascinating than her own kids. I'd rather be the kind of mother who thinks there's nothing more fascinating than herself. But Mom weighed in, and so you are all stuck with B, G and J stories.

Some Flood stories came in. I realized after reading KQ's comment that--oops!--neighbors who know the neighbor I disparaged in my story are actually reading this, so suggesting that said neighbor had a lover was tantamount to gossip. I've since scrubbed this neighbor's name from the post.

Nor did I realize that KQ thought Sister #3 was like a Barbie doll. You are all dying to know, now, what Sister #3 look like and/or what prompted a comparison to Barbie. Sorry. You'll have to ask KQ to expound.

MLQ e-mailed a Flood comment--that the same neighbor I disparaged a) hogged sandbags and b) posted a "No Wake" sign in their yard.

Could they have posted it as a joke? Sure sounds like a joke. . .

MLQ also reports about Pink Month in Pinehurst, NC:

"(T)he Spa at Pinehurst offered free treatments (facials, massages, mani-pedis) to breast cancer survivors and 50% off to their "breast friends" on October 1. Each participant got a goody bag and there was live music and a pink balloon launch - way to kill the birds! I cringed at the thought, but mellowed when I saw how the participants enjoyed it. It occurred to me that the locker room and lap pool were probably more comfortable when everyone had a badge of honor of some sort."

AP!: Clearly, I should be living in Pinehurst. Recall, also, that the policemen there don't give tickets to cancer patients and their families. . .

And the locker room comment gives me an idea for Sunday's story time. I have a word or two to say about Koreans in the locker room.

Also, MLQ explains:

"I understand putting the girls list on hold, but I plan to still add to it as memory serves. . . . Do you remember the Japanese story about folding 10,000 paper cranes? That's what your song lists remind me of. I can't fold worth a dam, or do anything requiring manual dexterity - ask your mother - but I have a steel trap memory. It's my way of participating in your support staff."

Well, thank you for that support. I shall endeavor sometime this weekend to update the Name List with about 4 weeks' worth of submissions.

Parin also had a flood story to share. She e-mailed about the time it rained so much, the sewer on base blocked up and her side of the street flooded. It was just weeks before Jason deployed to Iraq. Just days before Christmas. A disaster, though at least USAA came through very well for them.

She wrote, "The funny thing is that when Sarah talks about the flood she talks about it as an adventure. While Jason and I were dealing with insurance adjusters and clean up people; she was hanging out with all her friends in the neighborhood, going from house to house playing in candle light houses. She got to eat pizza and make decorate gingerbread houses. She still talks about the flood and how fun it was. I hope she always has that memory. And I remember how wonderful our neighbors were taking care of our kids while we dealt with all of the mess."

All of this--both Sarah's fond memories of a tough time, my own fond memories, KQ's. . .--it all makes me very hopeful that Gemma and Joshua will think of these chemo-days as a fun adventure, too. After all, they've spent weeks at Miss Betsy's, where Betsy and Amy make thorough plans to entertain them all day, and they get to spend their Monday's with someone who either plays with them or has kids who play with them. Many mornings, I cannot get out of bed and they get to watch movies until I do. What's not to like about chemotherapy?

I notice, too, from the comments that both Mom and the Adventure, a.k.a. Vonnie, have uploaded photos to accompany their comments. Well done, ladies!

And, of course, this week there was a lot of poop talk. I can now add, to the list of "Un-expected Benefits and Blessings of Cancer and Chemotherapy" the following:

Educated myself and my sister (perhaps others, too?) about a helpful medication for toilet issues.

Amanda also commented on the Venus flytraps. It doesn't surprise me that she had them growing up, nor that her daughter gives them as gifts because Amanda is a great example of someone who makes a literate home.

I, however, didn't even know these things could be bought in this country.

She suggests feeding it ground beef. But I've read up on the plant and all the Internet sites strictly prohibit this practice. They say the fat content will kill it.

Then again, the fat content of beef is supposed to kill humans, too. I eat beef all the time--iron content!--and haven't died from it.

So the Internet sites must simply be hysterical.

We re-potted the plants into 2 different Good Will glass containers, each with a lid, and each a lot prettier than a terrarium. The Internet sites say to keep it humid for them, and there's only one way to make that happen here in Colorado.

Into one of them, we put a piece of pair, hoping to attract fruit flies for the plant to catch. (Sister #2's idea!) The other, we plan to feed only water. We want to see whether the plant actually needs protein to live.

But the pear, as of yet, Day 4, has not attracted fruit flies. Maybe none will come now that it's already frosted and snowed outside? Maybe we will have to do the ground beef thing. If so, we shall do it with courage because it apparently didn't kill Amanda's plants.

Finally, Renee commented that a friend of hers who has had reconstructive surgery says "they" look terrific.

Reminds me of a story the genetic counselor told me when I went in for the blood draw for that screening.

He said he was in a seminar on reconstructive surgery, and was surrounded by 14 other nurses, all female. He sat in the back during the slide show of before and after photos and just kept his mouth shut.

Then one woman raised her hand and said, "I don't want to sound like a pig or anything, but it's not just my imagine, is it? I mean, these women look amazing!"

Which was this genetic counselor's way of telling me, without risking offence by owning the opinion himself, that he had seen the photos of post-restorative surgery, and that it looked pretty great.

Now confirmed by Renee's friend.

And I tell you: That moment with the genetics guy is one I have thought of many times and taken much encouragement from in the following months.

That's the round-up! Enjoy your weekend--I plan to enjoy mine now that I'm feeling great and know that Round 5 is on Monday.