Do not be panic

My friend Marius read this on the side of a fireworks box: "Do not be panic."

Okay then. I am not panic.

Just a little tweaky.

The irony is not lost on me: it is Pink Ribbon Month and I had a mammomgram today. The radiology office was festooned in pink - pink pens, pink ribbon pins, pink ribbon magnets for your car - take them, they're free! You need them because you need to show cancer you aren't going to put up with it. And nothing frightens cancer like pink.

I had one mammo. And then another because the first one was suspicious. And then an ultrasound. On both boobs. Where they found weird shit both left and right.

Now a needle biopsy next week. On both boobs. Because of the weird shit.

It's ok. I come from a lumpy family. No worries. We don't have the gene. Nobody related to me has ever had the C disease in the boobs.

I am not panic. Ok, just a little. I am sure having needles shoved in my funbags will be a breeze. And I am trying not to think past that point, what if...how would I look with no hair? Don't even go there. My tits are NOT trying to kill me.

In other news, don't you think it is a little rude for the Radiology Diagnostic Center to have Halloween decorations shaped like coffins, saying "Rest in Peace" in the waiting room?


Check out Linkateria, too.

Proud?

I was going through an old box of writing in hopes of finding something for the new Cringe TV show that Sarah Brown is putting together. (No luck. All of the old letters were to me, not from me, and I had foolishly tossed out my angsty teen diaries when I was about 18. *Sniff*)

In one of my notebooks, I found a list called "50 Things I am proud of" that I had written about 7 years ago. It was a sweet list and it made me happy to see it and remember the things on it. "Being out of debt." Yes, that was a good one. Still is. "Saving all those trees by protesting PG&E." That was fun AND something to be proud of (they wanted to clear-cut a swath of ancient oaks 200 yards wide and 10 miles long and we stopped them via some loud and crazy protest activities, like dressing as trees and getting chased by a chain-saw-wielding madman through the street fair).

Sometimes it's good to remember the parts of our lives that are good, that AREN'T a mess. Humiliation is funny and makes for good blog posts, but a little pride is necessary for mental health.

Today I am proud of my part in making my workplace fun and peaceful. When I got hired over a year ago, everyone hated each other. No exaggeration. No one spoke much except to whisper rumors about each other. The tension was so thick that the air was curdled. No one hung out, joked, helped each other. It really sucked to go to work every day.

I was determined to change that. I made sure to keep on good terms with everyone. When we hired new people, I tried to make them comfortable and feel welcomed and clued in to what was going on.

I even wiped down their cubicle drawers, because when I moved in, mine were filled with cookie crumbs and hair and dust from the last occupant and that seemed so cold and uncaring to me - to let someone move into a filthy cubicle.

I let everyone know I was willing to help them however they needed it and that they could email me questions, no matter how basic, so they wouldn't have to ask them aloud and risk sounding stupid.

Yesterday when our co-worker was leaving on vacation, it hit me how much things had changed. We all crowded around him to wish him well. Then we went out to lunch together and laughed and joked and had a good time. There's no way those two simple, friendly things would have happened a year ago.

I didn't do it singlehandedly. Part of the change was that my one co-worker who was a focal point for all the Badness transferred to another department. My new co-workers are very congenial and fun.

But I did a lot of it. I knew it could change if someone had the will to bring people together.

I made the world a better place for 6 people 9 hours a day. It's a little thing, but for the 6 of us, it is a big thing. And for that, I am allowing myself a bit of pride.

Logic

Considering the fact that Mr. Stapler's dog Kelly and my dog Goldie recently tried to kill each other, I asked him "What are we going to do if we get move back in together? Get rid of the dogs?" (I was joking).

"No," he answered. "We will have to let them fight to the death and keep whoever survives."

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In other dog news, Jay, the guy in the front house left before 6 a.m. today and left Oscar, his sweet German Shorthaired Pointer, outside. It is now 8:40 p.m. and he isn't home.

Oscar is crying.

Why not just stab me through the heart?? I know Jay is a hardworking guy but he has to think of his dog, too. That is just WRONG.

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I fear I am going to have to get Goldie a conehead like Pesto has. Her haircut and her wounds are itching her and she is batting at them with her paws.

My parents went out to lunch today and when they came back, she was all bloody. She is supervised about 23 1/2 hours a day, but apparently that isn't enough. Sigh.

Conehead, hear we come.

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I just got my shipment of Moo Flickr Mini-Cards. These are little cards, about half the size of business cards, printed on a plasticized paper. On one side are photos from Flickr - you can choose up to 34 photos in an order of 100 - and on the other side is whatever text you want.

I chose to put the BlogHer Red Stapler photos (not all of them, just the 30 that worked best) on one side and my contact info on the other. If you want a couple, send me your address at snackishblogATyahoo.com and I will pop a couple in the mail. They might have some of your favorite bloggers on them - I have Suzanne of CUSS, Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah, Kristin of Motherhood Uncensored, Izzy, and so on and on...

Cultural Commentary

I was looking at my pathetic financial state and realizing that I have to cut my expenses. I already lead a pretty simple life, but if I am going to spend $400 a week on veterinarian bills, something has got to go.

My one fairly expensive indulgence is coffee - I buy the $14 a pound beans and drink lots of it. I figure my doctor is always telling me to drink 8 glasses of water a day. Coffee is mostly water, right? So 64 oz of coffee should be perfectly healthy.

I wracked my brain for a cheaper caffeine delivery solution and remembered that I survived in Mexico on Nescafe Clasico and it wasn't awful like so much instant coffee in the U.S. is. In some places Nescafe Clasico might be hard to find, but not in California (Unofficial State Motto: Mexico primero y siempre! (It was Mexico first, and it always will be.) I went over to La Central Market and picked up a jar.

The English instructions say: place one rounded teaspoon of Nescafe Clasico in a cup. Add hot water or milk and enjoy.

But in Spanish they say: Ponga Nescafe Clasico a su gusta en una taza, agregue agua hervida o leche caliente y disfrutelo. (Put Nescafe Clasico as you like it in a cup, add boiling water or hot milk and enjoy.

A subtle difference, but enough to make me wonder why they didn't translate it exactly. Is it that Anglos like clearer instructions, or that Latinos don't like to be told how to do things? I need to know. I guess that makes me an Anglo, que no?

It still tastes pretty good.

Oyez oyez

My post was about how stupid everything is becoming. My post was stupid, so I took it down. Consider today cancelled.

Movie Review: Friends with Money

OMG is there anything more annoying than Santa Monica liberals? Other than a MOVIE about Santa Monica liberals??

90 minutes. Nothing happens, except for whining. That part is incredibly realistic, because we have friends who are Santa Monica liberals and with them it is pretty much all whining, all the time, too (their kid is allergic to dairy, soy, rice, wheat, nuts and chicken. WHO is allergic to CHICKEN?)

After not being able to get a decent date for the whole film, Jennifer Aniston ends up with the fat dude. That part is not so incredibly realistic.

Suebob says two thumbs down. Annoying as hell.