Belated Christmas Letter

Dear family & friends, (I include all you blog readers as friends, I hope that's the case and there isn't anyone out there waiting to stalk me in my weakened condition)

Christmas 2006 was a little bit different. I'm recovering from a hysterectomy done on December 13, 2006 and they took both ovaries too because they were afraid I had ovarian cancer. I didn't. But there was a Thing there, a nasty little Thing, that isn't there now.

I haven't talked about on the blog. I guess I felt a little ashamed of it because it's a Female Problem and I just couldn't bear the thought of my clients & opposing attorneys with senses of, um "humor" finding this one day and a huge Powerpoint presentation flashing on the courtroom walls..."SO ANYWAY ABOUT MY OVARIES." But you know what? I'm tired of hiding. I'm tired of being cheerful and brave and peppy. It's not like I have Something Ominous Derived From Behavior You Wouldn't Tell Your Mother about, y'know?

Briefly, the surgery itself was a snap. A snap! I am a health fanatic and my body bounces back very quickly. I was off pain pills in 2 days and doing laundry without any problems in a week.

Then I entered the wonderful world of Surgical Menopause. That means that all the normal healthy hormones pumping away were yanked out. That means you have to put them back, and get them balanced, and it takes months. Months that I still have to work and run a home and occasionally pat my child on the head while I'm lying down, dead tired.

It's been rough. Very rough. Artificial hormones fluctuating in the body make your body do things like develop horrible joint pain. The new artificial hormones have to "settle down." They want a new paint job, and they don't like the curtains in their new guest room, and they've been letting me know about it with crippling agonizing bouts of pain that then leads to crippling agonizing bouts of depression, and tears, and exhaustion.

Things are getting better, slowly. It takes time.

If you pray, would you say a quick one for me?

But I have to remember. This is all temporary.

I'm not dying of cancer.

This is a good, good thing.

Couch Potato

Here I am about 20 years ago on a skiing trip. Well, I guess technically it was a skiing trip. I didn't know how to ski and I didn't have health insurance at the time so I was too chicken to try. I *knew* that I would break my leg and run up $26,778 worth of bills.

I have never liked to move much. Never had to, really. My digestive system has never allowed me the thrill of *comfort* eating, so I've never had any real serious weight problems. No weight problem, no need to exercise vigorously, eh? Yah.

My inlaws are all sports fanatics. I like to stop conversation by nonchalantly mentioning that I have never spent one second of my life playing an organized sport.

Madeleine asked me the other day what did I play as a child. Soccer? Hockey? Basketball?

I told her I played the piano.

I always wanted a glorious, golden, tan, but my freaky skin wouldn't allow it. My nose turns red after five minutes of unprotected sun exposure.

So I have spent most of my life inside reading.

Every time I hear about another wrinkled friend having surgery to correct an "old sports injury" I reach around to pat myself on the back...

And realize that the joints are creaking.

Time to start that fabled "moderate" exercise program that everybody vows to start at this time of year, I guess.

I'm so excited. So, so excited. NOT.

is there a doctor in the house?

http://transcripts.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/0701/05/pzn.01.html

MARTIN: OK, why? What's the big deal with Chinese children? Enlighten me, please, help me out.
ZAHN: You understand this better than anybody. Why don't we see more Americans adopting black foster children?
MARTIN: That's my point. What's the big deal with Chinese children? Why the infatuation?ZAHN: You think it's something with the color of their skin? Is that what you're driving at?MARTIN: Maybe they think they can adopt a smart kid that is going to grow up to be a doctor? I don't know. They need to realize that's called training, not just inherent, it will happen when they're born. Angel, help me out.
MALDONADO: Absolutely. This is something I've been looking into for a long time. Americans have this love affair with girls from China. There is this belief, this perception, irrational as it might be that if you adopt a little girl from China, she's going to be intelligent, she's going to be more lovable.
MARTIN: Like the porcelain doll.

You know, this exchange tapped into one of my worst fears. Now you might think that my fear is that blowhard know nothings would go on national tv & judge and condemn our decision to add a child to the family through adoption. Naw, that fear doesn't keep me up at night, because you know what Ricky Nelson sang, "can't please everyone, so you've...got to please yourself." And you know, those fools don't pay my bills.

No.

My fear is that my kids won't become doctors.

God knows, God knows, mama tried. I mean, I've burned all of my law books, and whenever we go to Walmart I point out how tiring it must be to stand on your feet ringing up customers all day, and I gave them their great grandfather's stethoscope, and I point out almost daily that I'd be awfully grateful for a 1. plastic surgeon and a 2. geriatric specialist in the family, and then once in awhile I lean over them while they are sleeping and whisper in their ear, "We didn't rescue you so that you could become an artist or a paving contractor."

(sigh)

I hope that I'm not being too subtle. Kids need a firm hand.

Madeleine's List

1. Do not call me cute names.
2. Do not talk about when I was a baby.
3. Only talk to the three children that I have approved you to talk to.

I managed to conduct myself without causing irreparable damage to her reputation and got some really cute pictures.

She even hugged me at the end!

Yearbook Photographs

Ok, this is going to be another Neurotic-Ex-Dork-Reliving-Her-Childhood post, so fair warning. Probably a waste of time.
Still with me? Ok. FAIR WARNING.

I have a few hot buttons. A few! (loud laughter) Is there anything at all worse than being a hideously geeky tin-teeth dork in high school?
Hi cutie! The worst picture ever taken of me. I didn't even show it to my parents, I was so humiliated.
Say "prom" to me and my heart begins to beat faster as I relive the moment that my little Sunday School crushee actually fled to New Orleans (1975) and France (1976) rather than go to the prom with me. Or the moment that my other little crushee just bluntly told me that he didn't care to go with me.

Now say "yearbook photography" and watch me begin twitching spasmodically.

For some reason I was obsessed with having my picture in our high school yearbook! Don't ask me why. Why do teenagers do anything? I was obsessed, and not particularly timid about it either. Now that I have a little perspective, I wonder why I didn't try to become a photographer for the yearbook. (shrug) It was all boys at the huge, impersonal high school I attended. Girls didn't do things like that in those days, at least not at Beverly Hills East High.

Freshman year, I managed to have my back in a shot by hurrying down the hall when I saw one of them aiming his camera. Nice looking back, I'll say.
I followed another one of 'em around and begged him to take my picture. Being a nice guy, he agreed. "Bring a flower and dress in your prettiest spring outfit," he told me. "I'll take your picture holding a flower for a Springtime theme."

I did, and he did. There I was, grinning like a fool, glasses and braces gleaming in the sunlight, holding a rose.

Imagine my surprise when a cheerleader's picture holding a rose was substituted. (shrug) That would have deterred lesser souls, but I was not a lesser soul. I pushed and shoved my way into every picture that I could for the rest of my high school career.

Well. I have two daughters. One is going to have a yearbook for the first time this year, 3rd grade. I learned this during my first Parent Teacher Conference in the fall. A list of possible volunteer duties was given to me and what did I see.....Yearbook Photography.

"I...I could take a couple of pictures for the yearbook," I volunteered shyly. (Yes, I am being sarcastic).

The teacher stared at me.

"No, really! I have this really expensive camera," I elaborated, babbling hideously. "Um..even some PROS use it. Really! Um.. I would be glad to take a couple of shots for you."

She shrugged and picked up a $3.00 disposable from her desk. "I guess you could do better than this," she smiled.

So tomorrow I go in to assure that THE NEXT GENERATION HAS HER SHOT AT IMMORTALITY.

Madeleine is very nervous. "Don't embarass me," she warned.

"Please make a list of dos and don'ts for me," I replied. And she did.

I will behave. And take a few pictures of a few of the kids...y'know...not playing favorites or anything. Oh no. No.........

The Day My Eyeliner Exploded

Ok, ok, humor me. Here's a picture from 2001. Yes, I know it looks as if my eyeliner exploded. Actually, I don't use eyeliner because I once read in Cosmopolitan or Glamour or Unrealistic Unattainable Incredibly Retouched Picture Of Anorexia Victims Wearing Ridiculous Body Revealing Clothes That You Should Be Prohibited By Law From Even Thinking About Wearing Magazine or somewhere that eyeliner causes wrinkles, so in my brilliant/pathetic cluelessness I decided to just dab mascara all over my eyes to resemble eyeliner. Sad. Please pray for me, because no, I'm not kidding. I still do that.

I was thinking about Ten Stupidest Beauty Tips but you know, I'm not about to reveal all or you might be as good looking as I am.

Instead, thinking of magazines, how about the Ten Stupidest Things In Magazine Articles.

1. "Our marriage is a work in progress," says Pretensia about her candlelight Barbados ceremony. Work in progress? What's that? Are you remodeling your kitchen? Because that certainly is a work in progress. Marriage should be fun! If you have to work at it, why not get a dog instead? Dogs are work, with the training and all.

2. "Contrary to the rumours, Pretensia has a healthy appetite. We met at the Beverly Hills Cafe for an interview and she ordered whole wheat toast, a caviar and sage egg white omelette dusted with paprika, and a generous order of hash browns." Ok. Did you check to see if that was the first meal she actually ate in the last 24 hours? Did she actually eat it? P.S. Bulemia.

3. "Pretensia is frank about her health history, discussing her several hospital admits for exhaustion last summer while filming Two Guns and A Girl." Exhaustion? How come nobody I know ever gets to check into a hospital for exhaustion? I'd like to. Where do I sign up? Pretensia has a maid, nanny, cook, gardener, limo driver, personal life coach, trainer, and drug dealer. I have none of the above. How come Pretensia gets to check in and I don't? I call...unfair.

4. "Melt Off Pounds While Walking." My pounds never melt off unless I apply a blowtorch to them, but somewhere out there an army of tiny, thin women must exist who walk off every creme brulee. I wish I could join them.

5. "Thirty Minute Meals!" How come they always involve ground beef, pasta, some ingredient only available on the West Coast like Mrs. Schtouffle's Kitchen Bouquet, something sauteed in onions, and have about 630 calories and 5,656 grams of sodium per bite? I guess if you melt off all your pounds while walking, you can't spend much time in the kitchen--and you can afford to eat like a hog.

6. "I wish they'd give me some privacy," sighs Pretensia. Umm....Pretensia? Your agent begged for this interview. Your friend tipped off photographers when you left the nightclub. Your other friend called the tabs at your request. Don't worry. Soon you will be on a Where Are They Now? website. Just be patient, sweets.

7. "He'll always have a special place in my heart," sighs Pretensia. Hmm. People I know don't usually discuss their exes in such a flattering manner. Could he have special videos or pictures of you, Pretensia? Just curious.

8. Tom Cruise.

9. Nicole Ritchie.

10. Kelly Ripa.

Whine-A-Thon!

All right, I now have seventy five KAJILLION adorable baby pictures of Madeleine and Meredith scanned onto my hard drive and (whimpers quietly) not even the SUBJECTS OF THE PICTURE want to look at them.

Me: Darling angels, come here and look at some pictures of you when you were babies!

Darling Angels: Do we haaaavvvee to?

As for the Digital Picture Frame Project (whimpers loudly) we went over there and the inlaws had the thing unplugged from the wall.

You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks. I imagined this conversation one day:

Christmas 2035

Mad & Mere: Go ahead Mom and Dad! Open the present!

Me: Just a minute kids, I need to kick start my hands with the Anti-Athritic Stimulator. (zap! tchwunk!) Ok, here we go! (unwraps gift, stares blankly) What on earth is it?

M&M: It's a ticket to Mars! See, you just press this button and you're instantly on Mars! You know how you always said you wanted to visit Mars!!

Roger (crabbily) I never said I wanted to visit Mars.

Me: Sweeties, we love it!!! (pokes crabby husband) DON'T WE HONEY? But...darlings...I don't know how the Anti-Gravity-A-Thon on the Mars trip will affect my hearing implant.

M&M: Mooommmmmm......(they exchange significant looks) You just can't teach those old dogs any new tricks, can you?

Me: Excuse me?

M&M: Nothing!

Me: This hearing implant works pretty well, you know!

M&M: Fine! We'll just exchange it and get you...oh I don't know....how about one of those old fashioned COMPUTERS?

Me: (eagerly) You can still find some old ones on ebay, I think!

M&M: Whatever. See you later! (They press the zap and instantly are transported back to their second homes on the moon).

Roger: Brats. C'mere honey and give me a Anti-Athritic kick start so I can play with my 30 year old computer.

Ah yes, old fogies. God Bless 'Em.

The Good Ol' Days

Hope everybody who celebrated had a good Christmas.

Several of my brothers in law got together and gave my mother & father in law a Kodak Digital Picture Frame. All the seven kids were invited to put their pictures on a flash drive so they could enjoy them. As a charter member of Fanatics-R-Us, naturally OUR pictures had to be the BIGGEST collection, the BRIGHTEST colors, the BEST LOOKING children (hands down, slam dunk there). Naturally I had to scan THREE HUNDRED print pictures from the first four years of the children's life, so that they will have a complete digital record of their precious little lives and won't have to actually, you know, deal with printed pictures. So 1978, you know?

My scanner now makes this noise: screeechbumppthrouuuie. However, the pictures are scanned. And when I left the inlaws on Christmas Day, I made sure our flash drive was plugged into the picture frame. I'm sure they are screaming and ducking when they see an adorable China Doll flash onto the screen, but guess what? I have 100 more ready to go over there tomorrow.

Attached is one from Christmas 2001.