In Which I Am A Walking Public Service Announcement

I'm thinking I should go walk along the beach (with my SPF 50 and a broad-rimmed hat, of course) carrying a flashing neon arrow pointing to my face and a sign that screams,
"Sunscreen, people! 
Put it on liberally, put it on often.
PUT IT ON NOW!"

The irony is that I've never been one to lay out.  I spent most of the summers of my youth in the basement because it was too hot to be outside. And since we have lived here I have embraced the sunscreen mentality. 

So where did that nasty patch of cells-gone-wild come from?  Unimportant.  The only important thing now is to get back to the dermatolgist for a complete skin examination and make sure the removed stuff doesn't have any cousins still lurking somewhere.

The surgery went pretty well.  What looked like the size of one, maybe two little sesame seeds was actually closer to a  fat almond, so when Paul came in before the doctor got there to close and saw the open wound he was a little unnerved.  The doc had to make a second incision to get a smooth close, so 27 stitches later I have a decent-sized X around the edge of my nostril, trailing down to the edge of my lip.  Too bad I didn't do this in October.  I would have finally had a fantastic Halloween costume.

(Sorry I'm not brave enough to post a picture, although this would be the one time I have a great excuse to take a bad photo. However, if I hear about any of you going out without your sunscreen, I may be forced to post, a la Scared Straight or Red Asphalt.)

I'm Positive

So the Doctor walks into the exam room reading my chart. He reads out loud, “Basal Cell Carcinoma.”

His brows knit a little as he reads to himself for a few more seconds. Then he looks up and smiles. “On a positive note, it’s not the WORST diagnosis you could have!”
 Love him.

The plan is to go in on Thursday and have the doctor scrape away little layers at a time underneath the outside corner of my right nostril until everything is clear. I will have some stitches, the number to be determined by the amount of skin they have to scrape off. On the surface it looks like a very small area, but I was warned that there could be more underneath. We will see.

So my very private self has been reluctant to say anything to anyone about this.  It doesn't seem like a big deal. And well, sometimes I am just not comfortable sharing. 

But I was recently reminded that it is not a bad thing to have people concerned and praying for you, even if it doesn't seem like a big deal.

Most of you probably won't see this until everything is all cleaned up and I am home milking my condition for all it's worth, but maybe you could still send up a little prayer on my behalf.

And on a postive note, I did share!

Drowned Rat

I FINALLY got the Christmas lights up outside.

By myself.

While it was raining.

Actually, it was quite fun.  But now I am wet.  And I need some hot chocolate.

Guilt

I've been sitting here reading blogs for, well,  probably too long, and I'm feeling guilty about the length of time that has passed since my last/first post.  When I got around to writing that one I felt like since I had finally broken the ice it would be a piece of cake to be "a regular". 

NOT. 

Oh, I think about writing all the time.  I think about things I want to write about all the time.  Why oh why can't I turn that thinking into digital images???

So tonight as I was thinking about writing again I decided to STOP thinking and just start typing.  So if this all sounds thoughtless...

Anyway, it is too late for something profound, or precocious, or poetic.  But I've broken the ice, again, so hopefully there is hope for me yet.

26.2

I want to be a runner again. I want a runner’s body.

I want a runner’s lung capacity.

In the back of my mind I have always wanted to run a marathon.

I want a runner’s euphoria - you know, that moment when you no longer feel your lungs or your legs. When you recognize all that is good and beautiful around you. When stress is erased and solutions to problems become clear and all is right with the world.

AHHHHHHHHH!

I just have one problem. Well, two, technically.

My knees are lame. Literally and figuratively. I blame it on several factors.

Track.

Gymnastics.

Heredity (more on that later).

And some kind of injury (meniscus I’m guessing) incurred last summer when I first decided to reclaim my running glory days, and that I keep irritating every time I think it is healed and try to run again.

I am a slow learner, but have finally reconciled myself to the fact that I cannot be a runner.

So, I have decided to be a biker.
In the Schwinn sense, not the Hog.

I guess cyclist is the more accurate term, but don’t you think it sounds a lot better to be a Biker Momma than a Cycling Grandma? I do too.

So Biker Momma it is. I have found a 2 ½ mile circular route in the neighborhoods around my house that suits me pretty well right now. How much time I have to exercise determines how many laps I do. There are a few moderate hills to keep things interesting, and not much traffic to keep things safe.

FACT: I am a little paranoid about cars. It is justified.

One of the teachers at the high school has broken bones twice in the past year after being clipped by cars while cycling. So while I hope to feel more comfortable around cars in the future so that I can venture down by the beach, for now I love the solitude of the neighborhood.

FACT: While the definition of my bike says otherwise, you will NOT find me on any mountains. I value my knees, elbows, and face way too much. (If you know mountain bikers you know what I am talking about.)

FACT: You will NOT find me racing. Think much more turtle, much less hare.

Slow and steady. My knees seem to be okay with this. Not completely thrilled, but pretty happy to be off the pounding pavement.

So, hopefully, soon I will have a biker’s body. A biker’s lung capacity.

Is there a biker’s euphoria?

I think it is the moment when my ride is finished and I lift my backside off the seat.

AHHHHHHHHHH!

DISCLAIMER

Some people - okay just one daughter had the guts to say it out loud - have told me that it is lame to keep putting up posts about our trip last spring. (Especially, she says, since Dad has already described even the most minute detail of every day to everyone.) I get that. However, I refuse to feel bad about the posts, including one more to come of our last few days in Nauvoo. The posts were really only written for the benefit of those of us who went, because we believe the quote Annie has on her blog by Anais Nin. “We write to taste life twice - in the moment and in retrospection.” We wanted to remember all the fun, funny, awesome, awe-inspiring and spiritually uplifting things we saw and did, and by doing so remember the bonding it created for us. We have taken many family trips over the past 30 years and we have written very little about them down. Big mistake. We have fond, vague memories, but nothing that brings a vivid recollection of a glorious day viewing God’s creations or of a tender moment between siblings. So we wrote down all the details we could remember about this last trip, in order to “taste” it again and again and again when we get hungry. So humor us one last time, and then we will try to be less lame.

Wed 4/14

We woke up EARLY and reluctantly left Columbus for Nauvoo. We left Alisha behind because she had to fly back to Provo for work.