I just got home from trivia with my best friend of, oh, 25 years or so, her Mother-in-Law that we all just call Mom or Momma V, Kyrstin, and her girlfriend, Christal. We only stayed through two rounds, but we won the second round with a perfect score!
The fact that we were home prior to 10 o’clock on a Friday night doesn’t mean we’re old. Not at all. We’re just tired. and cold. and yeah, okay, maybe we’re getting old.
The wind tonight on my ride back and forth, as I use the scooter of whee for anywhere within its battery power, was rough. When you live on a peninsula, a small one at that, the wind off the water will blow you around. By the time I got from start to finish my hands were frozen.
Frozen because my dumb ass can’t find my gloves. I can’t find them anywhere. I have looked all over the house, everywhere I thought possible and no sign of them.
This bodes so wonderfully for a day when I’ll be out in the wind and weather all day.
Tomorrow is WinterFest, Santa’s Parade, the lighted Boat Parade, Downtown Colonial Beach’s informational meeting and I have to be at all those things. The first starts at 9 AM, then they pile up one after the other.
I have learned though that I don’t have to stay the whole time through all activities. I’ll go for the parade, grab some cute kids waiting for Santa shots, then come home until it is time for the boat parade.
In years’ past, I have just stayed out through it all, then come home exhausted and freezing. Tomorrow, I’m going to come home.
I will come home to charge batteries and warm up. I will come home to use the bathroom as handicap accessible port-o-johns suck. I will come home and….
Who am I kidding? I know better. I’ll get distracted by taking pictures of cute kids and that will be it.
Oh well, happy day two of Holidailies. Time for me to get some sleep.
The easiest day of Holidailies and I almost forgot to post. Okay, I didn’t forget, I’ve been busy. Researching stuff all day, a meeting this evening, then home to whine that I didn’t want anything we had to eat in the house, and now here I am.
Welcome to Holidailies 2016. This is one of my favorite holiday traditions, even on the years I slack and don’t post all that much, as I love reading blog posts that are like the early online journals instead of how so many blogs are focused to one subject.
This afternoon, after a false start yesterday as they weren’t playing here*, I got to see Tre and Charlie play middle school basketball together.
Their age difference is just enough that they won’t get to play together all that much in high school so it was a delight to watch them. Heck, there were even a couple kids close to their size.
You see, Tre, 13, and Charlie, almost 12, are short. They’re tiny and they come by it honest. My brother isn’t tall and actually was fairly short until he was about 15 or so, their mother is short, as is her whole family.
Their classmates, and teammates, tend to be much larger than them. In fact, I saw a picture of Tre at a football game (yes, tiny, short kid played JV ball this year) standing with his teammates, who were all kneeling.
He was the same height as them. They also are all about double his weight, but, he will tell you, “I’ve got heart” and then go out and tear up whatever field he is on.
Charlie is the same way. Tonight, I only got to see him play for a few minutes, but he was in your face aggressive on the court and just showing that it doesn’t matter your size on the court.
They won, by the way, which is awesome as last year I don’t think the middle school team won a single game.
They actually beat the team from the school I graduated from. They are rivals dating back to long before I went to W&L and a tiny bit of me feels bad for going against them, but as long as the niblings are at CB, that’s where my heart is.
I had to leave at halftime to cover a Planning Commission meeting. As I swooped out of the parking lot, on my gimp scooter, as that is my transportation in town, I took note of the time.
16 minutes, door to door, without having to wait to cross any of the streets due to traffic luck. My little gimp scooter sure can fly.
Now, imagine this. Great big woman, bright tiedyed, rainbow colored dress, super bright red sweater, and to top it off, pink hair. Then, add the scooter that is zipping down sidewalks as I giggle.
I’m a sight, but it was so worth it to be able to see them play for a bit.
So, good day, all in all. Day one of December and Holidailies, got to see two of my niblings play, got to fly down the sidewalks, good PC meeting and I’m now home, safe and warm in my house.
Not a bad start to the month. (especially after the dumpster fire that most of November was. Holy shit, can y’all believe how rough of a month it was?)
*Yesterday, I went to the school, got into the cafeteria, one of Tre’s friends recognized me, and told me their game was an away game. Oops.
I’m watching the clock tonight. One hour to go until Holidailies (yay, I remember I have this site) and one hour until my eight year nephrectomy anniversary.
First, I never got back here to update after my biopsy. I’ll write up that full story so, but in the best news of 2016, I found out I have sarcoidosis and not stage four renal cell cancer. I was supposed to see the pulmonary doctor tomorrow, but had to change it until February.
Good news, but seemingly wrapped in bad. I can survive sarcoidosis. Hell, it might go away on its own. Stage four RCC does not.
So, I spent the summer thinking I was dying. To the point that I set this blog up with information on the about page (now gone) about stage four RCC. I rewrote my funeral plans and my will.
Tonight, I sit here thinking about all of this, about the past eight years and where I came from. A 33-year-old woman who was diagnosed with cancer that was an “old man’s disease, it can’t be this” to a 41-year-old chronically ill disabled woman.
It changed my life made it so I can do even less, physically, but I’ll take it. Eight years of survival, so far, eight more years with Tony, eight more years of being an Aunt. In these past eight years I’ve found so much life and love and friendship.
Eight years since they cut out rightie.
Damn, even with the dumpster fire that is about to take the office of President, I am sure glad to still be here.
I got on the scale at the doctor’s yesterday and for the first time in my life, I really don’t care what it said.
Seriously, I have tried to be body positive for years. I love my body. It carries around my mind, which is what makes me Suzy (or Susan or Suzika or Sue depending on where/what time of my life you know me from.)
My body is short, it is fat, it squishy. It is the external. If you can look beyond me being fat and plain and silly looking you get the good stuff.
The empathy, the love, the loyal as hell friend, the silliness, the dedication, the intelligence, the woman who loves words, the artist, because writing and photography are art forms, the aunt who adores her niblings, the strong dedicated person, the wife to an amazing husband.
That is who I am and so much more. Look beyond me not being your aesthetic perfection and you get the fierce, powerful, nerd who will be your friend for life.
Cancer makes me truly deeply go beyond the fat hatred and not give a shit about a number on the scale, but about who I am. For the first time in 41 years, I really don’t give a shit what you think about my body.