Before & After

Today will be only show and tell, since I'm in the midst of a cleaning frenzy this weekend. Yesterday was the some de-hairifying of the bathroom floor (thankfully, no more chemo = regular amounts of hair shedding and not vast clouds) and a bit around the living room and kitchen.

Unfortunately, cooking tends to leave piles of dirty crockery everywhere, and I made both dinner and brunch for my sweetie. (On the bright side, I will have lunch and breakfast ready for the next few days.) Now that I've spent a chunk of time in the kitchen scrubbing cast iron and putting my beloved dishwasher, it's only my terrifying bedroom which awaits me: mounds of clothes, handbags (my weakness), yarn (ditto), and magazines everywhere.

So here are the carrots, onions, and potato (only one spud left in the house, but it was a big old -- and I do mean old -- Russet) prior to their beer bath.

So THIS is what a jicama looks like before it arrives all julienned on your restaurant plate.

The veggies, post braise, along with a multigrain loaf from Whole Paycheck.

The giant 4-lb. chuck roast, in its braising sauce (and the source of much scrubbing today: I use 2 cast iron skillets instead of a giant Dutch oven) after 3 hours in the oven. The veggies were fished out and segregated (see above).

And finally, my long delayed sweater for my friends in Beijing: it's been lying around for ages, awaiting buttons. Since the dad will be in town on Friday, I figured I should finally get on with the button-sewing.
Speaking of getting on with it, my mountains await me in the other room. I will go crank up my new Vertical Horizon CD (another inheritance from my ex -- my preference for this group), Burning The Days, and fold and shelve, and wonder how I gathered so much crap into one space...

Flasher

So I've been meaning to share some of the odd moments that have occurred since I started radiation treatment, such as: this week, I met a new radiation technician, who will be working on my case. "Hi, my name is Keri" he said... 30 seconds later I'm topless.

You have to admit, in the normal course of events, this would only happen if I worked in a (so-called) gentlemen's club, albeit possibly without the name exchange.

Ummm... so yeah, once again, I was flashing my boob at some stranger (as my engineer teases me). I just lay back, put my arms in the vaguely B&D-ish armcuffs (really, you should click on that link -- words fail to do justice to the setup), and think of England... while trying to avoid the ominous Robocop-like sounds of the giant radiation machine rotating around me at several angles.

Once again, I'm tellin' ya -- check out the photo, and you'll see why I start to think of that scene in Robocop where the hapless executive at the demo meeting was demolished by the problematic prototype robot (not the Peter Weller model).

On the bright side, I had my weekly checkup with my radiation oncologist (honestly, in person she looks like she's barely old enough to be out of college, though clearly her resume renders this impossible) who gave me a big thumbs up. She said my skin looks very good (i.e., after 13 doses of radiation) and that I've clearly been "hydrating very well." Unlike other doctors, by this she means that I have been diligently using my Eucerin to minimize the irritation from the radiation.

So although my skin is darkening in the area under treatment (i.e., my entire upper left torso) and there is a red flush across my chest (soooo itchy), and that my boob is now so aggravated/irritated that I have to sleep on my right side (again) -- really, I'm doing well. Heh. (The skin will lose the leathery tone eventually, I've been told.)

And of course, the UN is now in session so traffic is nightmarish -- more so than normal. My express bus, the X90, has to go up First Avenue every day, past a flotilla of traffic cops and blockaded streets. (The hospital is at 67th & 1st and the UN is at 42nd & 1st so...)

As you can see by this notice on one of the buses, besides not paying parking tickets, and being exempt from all sales taxes (yes, even in restaurants), UN diplomats seem to accomplish a whole lotta nothing (I mean, no one seems to stop any nuclear programs -- or anything else -- when scolded by the UN, do they?) except aggravating the natives. Hence, my blurry cellphone pic:

Due to the UN General Assembly from September 27, 2009 to October 2, 2009 we expect significant delays on all Manhattan bus service due to the Frozen Security Zones and Motorcades. Expect delays to be the greatest on:

M1, M2, M3, M4, M9, M20, M27, M42, M50, M66, M72, M101, M102, M103, M104, x25, and x90

Gee, did we miss any bus lines?? It doesn't seem like many lines are excluded from the hijinks. Actually, upon reflection, none of them are -- these just have the MOST fun.

So after today's zappage, I took the M66 across town to Central Park West and walked up to the Whole Foods on 97th and Columbus. (Woohoo! Another 1.7 miles and 2 WW activity points... for a grand total of 8.5 miles this week!)

Thanks to the cratered economy, construction has halted on many projects across the city (and country) as this street scene demonstrates. (The Whole Paycheck is on the left.) This area is actually quite creepy at night, since there is NOTHING active nearby, only (newly constructed) vacant storefronts and uncompleted high rises.

Now I know why their nickname is Whole Paycheck, although the $3.95 delivery fee to my neighborhood is tempting -- $2 less than my beloved Fresh Direct, but consider the cost of the produce in the store vs. FD or Trader Joe. I mean what does it tell you when they offer "free delivery if your purchase is $150" or more?!

That being said, some of their store brand (365) items are really good values ($1.64 for a box of whole wheat pasta)... or is it just that I'm so used to the abusive NYC prices for everything?

In any case, I console myself with the thought that all the stuff I bought will provide me with well over a dozen meals, so the amortization makes the grand total ($100.56!) a bit less eye popping. Oh, plus I'll be feeding my sweetie and knitting buddies with it too, so yeah, LOTS of meals. And also, I come across exotic flora, like the lobster mushrooms above.

Now one place where the prices really ARE fantastic is Amazon, which is supplying me with my next selections for my two book clubs: The Sparrow (32% off) and the Pulitzer Prize-winning Olive Kitteredge (40% off). In fact, I am such a dork: I didn't read the fine print -- I could've gotten another book for free since I bought those two! ARGH!!!

Okay, okay, so in the scheme of things (and after spending a hundred bucks on groceries!) getting a $6 book for free is no big deal (yeah, I know -- hardly consistent behavior) but it's just the principle of "I could have gotten it for free!" [says the woman who needs a new bookcase].

Clearly, I am reaching the deranged portion of the evening, and so should sign off and try to go to sleep. (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the radiation has unpredictably schizoid effects: sometimes I'm pooped and conk out at 10pm, and sometimes I'm wide awake at ungodly hours. Feh.)

Thank gawd it's the weekend so I can (try to) sleep in...

Scones

So I'm trying to get back on the wagon again (the WW wagon) and on the bright side, I know if I did it once (lose 40 lbs.), I can do it again (lose 30 lbs.) but DAMN, it's hard. And since it took me 9 months to gain 30 lbs. I suppose it'll take me about the same amount of time to lose it. Sigh.

While I know some of you will remind me that the chemo didn't help with the weight gain, it's now been a month and a half since my last dose, so I would think any bloating would've melted off by now. Not.

Bought a spiral-bound little notebook this past weekend and have started my food diary again and NO WONDER I gained weight, since I've been gulping down 35-40 points of food a day. (Recommended amount: 21 pts daily) In fact, I can't even remember the WW points value of some of my staples, such as the FreshDirect multigrain bread I have for breakfast -- definitely a bad sign.

So yeah, I am tired (after 13 treatments, I guess that's finally kicking in) and depressed.

I'm trying to do what seems like a logical step in getting off my a** and walking after treatment. On Tuesday, I walked home from the hospital (hence the Central Park reservoir photo above) along the bridle path (see photo on the left) in Central Park, a nice 3.5 mile jaunt. Last night I walked across town to my friend Marci's place to wish her a happy birthday, another nice 1.6 miles according to Google maps. And tonight I walked from the hospital to the library here near Grand Central, another 1.6 miles.

Speaking of which, it's about to close, so I'll have to wrap this up, before I stroll off to meet one of my book groups to discuss American Wife, a thinly veiled fictionalization of Laura Bush

I'll leave you with details of one of the things which (while absolutely delicious) have tripped me up -- carrot pecan scones at 7 points a pop. Ouch.

WW POINTS® Value: 7
Servings: 8
(6 pts if 10 servings)

Ingredients

1 3/4 cup(s) all-purpose flour
1/4 cup(s) toasted wheat germ
1/2 cup brown sugar, firmly packed
2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp table salt
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 cup(s) unsalted butter, chilled
1/4 cup(s) nonfat Chobani Greek honey yogurt
1 item(s) egg
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup(s) shredded carrots
2/3 cup(s) golden raisins
1/2 cup(s) chopped pecans

Instructions

Mix dry ingredients together
Cut chilled butter into 1/2" subes and mix into flour mixture until large crumbs form
Stir together yogurt, egg, and vanilla; mix into flour
Mix in pecans and raisins.
Form (scoop) into 8 scones on cookie sheet and bake @ 400 for 19-21 min.
Cool on baking sheet for 5 min. and then cool on wire rack. (Cool completely before refrigerating. Will freeze well.)

Drink your cares away

Remember when I mentioned the new medical study which essentially recommended red wine at night, radiation patient's delight? Well, I do. So I have been having one glass -- ONE 4-oz. glass only -- of red wine after (or during) dinner every weeknight. (hic!) Since the study seems to indicate that ONE glass -- not half, not two -- helps breast cancer patients fight off skin toxicity during radiation, I have been sticking to one WW-size glass nightly, not the economy size pour / gigantic glasses some restaurants serve.

So far, I've finished off one of my favorites, Dominio de Eguren's Protocolo Tinto, a Tempranillo from my local wine store, The Winery (yes, the yuppies have landed in Harlem), which I like because it only buys from small wineries, keeps most selections under $20, and has fair trade wines, organic, etc. (They also track every purchase you make, so you can call back and say, "I want more of that Tempranillo I bought last Friday" without having to know the brand because the bottle's already in the recycling bin downstairs.)

I've also restocked on a French Languedoc red, Collection Daniel Bessiere St. Chinian, which is naturally, a Saint Chinian red. As with my clothes, I am fairly cheap when buying wines, especially when I can't really tell if something has "notes of berries" but rather only if I like something or not. You see why I like shopping at The Winery, right? I can stick with inexpensive but tasty wines and not need to remember the exact details of each wine. And oh yeah, they have free wine tastings every Friday and Saturday night. :-D

Since I've only had 9 radiation treatments to date (21 to go! 1/3 of the way down!) I can't tell if I'm supposed to have started getting a skin reaction yet, but I have noticed my skin is getting darker there (an expected side effect), I am getting itchy around my chest area, and occasionally I feel really flushed (or as my engineer teases me, "What? Hot flashes already?" Just you wait till I start my tamoxifen, buddy -- then I'll really show you hot flashes). Otherwise, between the Eucerin and the wine, I seem to be doing okay. Basically, imagine deliberately getting mildly sunburned every day and you'll get the idea of how it feels.

Speaking of grapes, my local supermarket (conveniently across the street from me) has started selling mixed grapes, a boon to the perpetually indecisive amongst us (i.e., people like me). So I bought a box of seedless red, green, and black grapes. The white film is just condensation (not mold!) and it's a reasonable quantity, so it won't be a race against spoilage to finish everything.

Speaking of eating, it's late and I'm hungry. Time for lunch and then I'm off to my sweetie's place and his newly renovated kitchen!

Gone vs. forgotten

So did I mention the lunch we had at my mom's on Labor Day? My dad's birthday was in late August, but since I was in Seattle at the time (hi Margaret!) she held off on making his ghost meal until Labor Day, which coincidentally still fell within the period of the Hungry Ghost Festival.

My sweetie and I went over to Mom's where we barely made a dent in the mounds of food (but hey, that's what doggie bags are for!) and spent the afternoon chatting, in that special 3-way, bilingual pattern our family is known for (i.e., either my sister or myself translate comments between mom and everyone else). Happily, Mom likes my engineer (as evidenced by her continuing quest to feed him and send him home with leftovers) and both of them are hilarious/entertaining conversationalists.

All of this talk of eating is kind of appropriate, since I have now outgrown most of my cooler weather clothing. Sigh. So the pile of older, larger sizes that was destined for charity have now come back out to play. Unfortunately.

Also unfortunately, my larger jeans did actually make it to the charity bins, so I now need a new pair. Thus, I went roaming through 2 Filene's Basement locations during the past week, and lo! I found this pair which fits me perfectly (do NOT ask what size I now require) and best of all, was only $20. (Did I mention I am insanely cheap about clothing?)

Eventually, I will get back on the wagon, since my knees and feet are telling me this weight gain is really making them unhappy (not to mention that it is actively painful to wear some of my clothes). However, I do not seem to have wandered yet into that internal (pyschological) room where the "disciplined eating & exercise" light switch is located. Until I mentally flip that switch, I munch away morosely.

When I mutter about this problem, my friend Marci snorts and comments, "Gee, I can't imagine WHY you're having this problem. I mean it's not like you've had anything on your mind this year, you slacker." Umm... well, when you put it that way... it does sound kind of silly (but then, I am good at finding things to beat myself up about).

Speaking of mothers, my engineer's mom's birthday is next month, and she has expressed a desire for a knitted tea cosy, so I am making her a pumpkin one, similar to this pumpkin tea cosy, a nice quick & easy break from baby sweaters.

After all, I still have a big mound of orange yarn left over from The Harf (which, incidentally, my friend is looking forward to breaking out again, now that it is football season once more -- I just worry that he may be lynched with it as he now lives in Chicago, territory of the Bears and not the Bengals) . So I went and bought this skein of green Plymouth Encore Worsted (color #1233) from the gigantic (expanded) Seaport Yarn at lunch the other day. It's for the leaf and stalk portion of the cosy.

Speaking of lunch, it's over. Time to get back to work (before I run off at 4pm for radiation... honestly, I should really take a shorter lunch these days, but...) Ciao!

Now don't move...

So today, I learned that despite driving the same route every day, the express bus driver can be more oblivious than a newbie passenger like me: he drove four blocks past my stop until one of the other passengers (who also wanted to get off) yelled, "Hey!" Me, I was wondering if there was some hidden rule about skipping stops that I didn't know about.

Once I finally trotted back to the hospital (and did I mention that we were already late, due to traffic?), I experienced a new aspect of my treatment: today they took films of me (for about 2 minutes) to make sure that I am am actually staying still -- and let me tell you, that doesn't sound so difficult until someone informs you that you CAN'T move. Suddenly, that's when you become aware of an itch on the side of your nose, or your back... but you CAN'T MOVE.

Despite the fact that they are essentially bathing my entire upper left torso in radiation, they actually are aligning me within a millimeter of where I'm supposed to be on the table, wherever that is -- it's all vaguely mysterious to me except for the laser level they use to align me. It's sort of like major league baseball pitchers: they all have specific little twitches to set themselves up before a pitch, but a layperson can make no sense of their gyrations.

Other aspects of my routine: every Friday I meet with my radiation oncologist and her team, so it's a desperate race between the express bus and the 5 o'clock cutoff time. Every Wednesday, they have maintenance on the machines, so my appointment is moved up earlier (so I can feel even more guilty about taking additional time off from work -- as it is, I leave at 4pm).

As you can imagine, all this waiting around results in lots of reading, preferably of trashy novels. So far, I've gulped down something I haven't read in years, a historical romance which I bought for $0.50 from the library (and which reminded me why I don't read these things anymore), a bunch of mysteries (looking forward to yet another in the Gaslight series which my friend Sam snagged for me from his office, Murder on Marble Row), and just finished Dexter in the Dark tonight (which I found a bit disappointing, but am hoping Jeff Lindsay redeems himself with the new Dexter novel, Dexter by Design.

By the way, for those of you watch the Showtime series, several things are different in the book: unlike the show, in the books, Sgt. Doakes is still alive -- sort of -- while Lt. LaGuerta is dead. Whoops. And can I just tell you that finding out that the actors who play siblings on the show are married to each other in real life is just a bit... weird?! I know, I know -- they're just pretending to be siblings but...

Anyway, food captions for tonight: the top photo is a turkey avocado sandwich with roasted peppers and a sharp cheese (I forget which) that I had at Le Pain Quotidien last week, accompanied by limeade mojito (virgin), both specials of the day. The photo on the right shows tofu fries (twice fried) with dipping sauces which my friend Margaret ordered when we were shopping during my visit to Seattle -- which just goes to prove: you can make anything unhealthy if you try. Heh.

Okay, time to go slather some Eucerin on my zapped bits -- recommended Rx from MSKCC: twice a day, and hopefully I won't get too badly "sunburned" -- I can but try, right?

YMMV

Your mileage may vary. Some days, my wait at the radiation clinic is 15 minutes. Some days, it's an hour and 15 minutes. After 3 days, I've learned that the number of machines with delays -- which is posted at the radiation reception desk (each of the radiation machines has a number -- this week I'm assigned to # 242) -- that number is directly related to how long I can expect to wait. Today, 3 of them were experiencing delays, so I waited over an hour.

This gave me more than enough time to finish reading my mystery, Murder in Little Italy, which is part of the Gaslight Mystery Series, set in turn of the century NYC. (Note to self: stock up on plenty of reading material , knitting, and DVDs for the next 5 weeks.) I've read 6 of the 11 books in the series now and think I'm about done with them. Next!

After I finished the book, I flipped through a recent issue of Time Out New York that was in the waiting area, and then worked on another baby sweater (I also think I need a break from the Little Bubbles patterns) and I still had more time to kill.

Finally they called me, and I went and changed into the hospital gown and put my stuff into a locker (you get a key when you check in at the reception desk) in the women's dressing room. After changing, you wait in a separate area on the other side of the dressing room.

Then, they call you (me) into one of the treatment rooms, where the coed team uses the tattoos to position me on my back on a mechanized table with 4 open half-cuffs to hold your arms above your head. Since I have to take off half of the hospital gown, I feel like I'm in training for some bondage session (!) and stare studiously at the stickers on the radiation machine.

Once the radiation team has me positioned to their satisfaction, they leave the room and the table moves me towards the machine. My description is woefully lacking, I know, so if you want to see what the gigantic zapping machines look like, check out this page.

The machine then zaps me from 2 different positions in its rotation, lasting altogether 2 minutes tops. It's completely painless, so the hardest part is keeping absolutely still (besides breathing, of course) while I am shuffled back and forth on the table like an item on a conveyor belt, all while being half topless. (There is very little dignity when you are a patient, no matter how considerate the caregivers are, and they are very nice at Sloan. I mean, it's hard to maintain your dignity when you're semi-dressed and lying down while everyone else is completely dressed and walking around.)

Once zapped (well, twice, actually) I am then free to leave, so I change back into street clothes in the dressing room. (Another note to self: either always wear separates, or bring shorts if wearing a dress.)

My commute elsewhere -- to meet friends or go home -- is ironically much slower than my commute TO the hospital on the hell-for-leather express bus: that $5.50 fare is really worth it because I get up from my office to the hospital front entrance in 20 minutes. That's impressive for Manhattan, trust me. (Yes, this means I bolt from the office every day at 4pm, to get on the x90 express bus at 4:20 to get to my 4:50 appointments.)

Speaking of commutes, I'd better get to bed, but I guess I should explain this odd assortment of photos first:

The top one is around dusk at one of the parks we visited during my trip to Seattle. That bright disk is actually the moon, not the sun. Margaret's husband taught us womenfolk the fine art of skipping stones that evening. (Hi, Andrew!)

The middle one amused me at the cavernous QFC supermarket near Margaret. (I have to admit that I was wildly envious of the vast selection AND reasonable prices available there -- Manhattan being the space constrained place that it is, neither selection nor price are particularly great: they may be sigh-inducing, but not in a GOOD way.)

And the final one is of a Powerpuff Girl popsicle Margaret found when I was visiting. Bubbles' eyes are a bit disturbing, doncha think? (Yes, they were sold out of Buttercup. Click on the link if you want to see an "interview" with our hardcore heroine.)

Okay, 3 zaptastic radiation sessions down -- 26 more to go!

What I did NOT do on my summer vacation

So we all know that vacations are good for your health, although I did not know the history of the vacation, which even has an entire book devoted to it, a book a I might buy...

In the meantime, I read American Wife on the flights home (I transferred in O'Hare) from Seattle, a chunky though fast read which clearly models its protagonist on Laura Bush since she is a former school librarian married to a widely reviled US president. It's for one of my book clubs (yes, you will not be surprised to know that this librarian is a member of not one, but two book clubs). Having finished that, I'm now in the middle of Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society for my other book club. It's another fast read, an epistolary novel set in post-WII England which I am quite enjoying.

What I did NOT do on my summer vacation was go stand on a wave tossed pier in Maine's Arcadia National Park while Hurricane Bill was active. Morons. I mean, here -- this is a photo of a CALM, non-hurricane day taken by my co-worker Dennis. Do you really think it's a good idea to go there when a hurrican is trawling up the North Atlantic coast?


And in other news, I met with the SMART people who will be my radiation team yesterday. It was a setup meeting (i.e., a dry run) where they used a 3-ring binder (!) full of medical notations and photographs to position me on the radiation machine, a giant conveyor belt with arm cuffs to help properly position breast cancer patients. There were stickers placed at eye level (you lie on your back) to hopefully amuse the pediatric cancer patients.

The actual procedure will probably only take a minute or two, but the waiting... I found out that the first 5 weeks of treatment actually bathes my whole left upper torso in radiation (!) and not just the lumpectomy area. The 6th week is a series of what they call a "boost" which targets the precise area where the tumor was.

Anyway, on the bright side, (a) it's painless, and (b) it looks like I will get my requested time slot of 5pm or later. So I start treatment on Tuesday, right after Labor Day, at 5:05pm. This means I will leave work at 4pm and take the x90 express bus from the Wall Street area to directly across the street from the hospital.

It's $5.50 per trip, with no discounts for multiple trips, and should take about 30 minutes. Oh well. It's worth the $165 for the convenience, as otherwise it would take an hour door to door, with many avenues of walking to and from the nearest subway stops, along with a transfer in the middle. Besides, I will see if my trusty accountant can deduct it for me as a medical expense on my 2009 taxes.

Speaking of income, it's time to get ready for work.

Oh yeah, the flowers on the right were brought in by my coworker Julia from the community she helps tend. It has marigolds, zinnias, and celosia.

Made in China

So I actually did something today, unlike yesterday when I sat on my butt all day and rotted my brain with daytime soap operas. (I can feel myself getting dumber with each hour of inanity viewed.) And I am just flabbergasted by some of the looks of the performers -- I don't mean in a "ooooh, he's cute kind of way" but more in the "eeeewww... looks like a walking Ken doll -- actually, he looks MORE plastic than a Ken doll." And the female performers are unfortunately poster children for why Botox and plastic surgery are not necessarily beneficial. Ick.

So above, my console table, assembled and empty. It looks pretty nice from afar. Closer up, you can see some of the tiny dings and warps in the veneer, but hey, what can you expect for something that costs about the same as a medium-priced NYC 3-course dinner, with booze and tip (i.e., less than 3 digits).

Below, it's almost full already. Whoa. (The books on top are from the library.) Behind, you can see pillows from my couch peeking out. The table is just one inch deeper/longer than my couch, exactly as planned. Excellent!

And now, I am off to have dinner with my friend Ellen. Ciao! (pun intended)

Gone fishing

...and now I'm back. From Seattle, where I visited my friend Margaret and her husband Andrew, and their future child, XY as I like to call him. Using a mere 50K frequent flyer miles, I flew round trip business class on American Airlines.

I had forgotten they actually feed you (A LOT) so that bagel I brought along was unnecessary, what with the bowls of warmed nuts, filet mignon entree, salad, prosciutto, ice cream sundae, and fresh-baked cookies. While it was all delicious (really) and served on china (!) I felt a little guilty since I could clearly hear them broadcasting the prices of sandwiches for sale in coach. Oh well. And you wouldn't think 2" extra in each seat width would make that much difference, but then, those 8" armrests really cut down on the elbow wrestling.

Since Margaret is 37 weeks pregnant, and since I have just as much energy as an extremely pregnant woman, I was perfectly content to do mellow things like shop, take walks around scenic areas like Green Lake Park (above -- oh, and despite that photo, it was actually sunny every day that I was there), visit bakeries like Hiroki, lie on the couch reading, and sample the goods at homemade donut shops like Top Pot Dougnuts. Yuummmmmm... I gobbled down my chocolate raspberry and Bavarian cream doughnuts before I stopped to think of taking photos -- sorry -- but the Hiroki treats were captured before their destruction: (clockwise from the top) ginger pear biscuit for Margaret, orange bun, for me and fig & cheese bun for Andrew.

We (Margaret & I -- Andrew was working or took off like the straight guy he is, heh) also explored local yarn stores: 3 LYS in 3 days! Score! We went to Acorn Street Shop, Weaving Works, and Bad Woman Yarn. Both Margaret and I liked Weaving Works best, and these photos may demonstrate why.

If you can resist buying vast piles of yarn, loitering around yarn stores is actually quite a thrifty vacation past time. I managed to restrain myself by focusing on the colors of my next Little Bubbles cardigan: if it didn't coordinate, I wasn't going to buy it.

In the meantime, I finally finished the Little Bubbles for XY's cardie. See? It even coordinates with their couch. (Heh) And I got to use some of the puppy dog buttons I bought on eBay a while ago.
Other odd anomalies besides the sunny weather (although I understand sunny weather is normal for summertime there) was not one, but TWO out of three flights arriving early. My nonstop flight to Seattle arrived an hour early (!) thereby understandably startling Margaret. My flight home from Chicago O'Hare (I transferred there) got to Newark half an hour early. And since I only had "one personal item" and carry-on luggage (I mean real carry=ons, and not those overstuffed monstrosities people use to avoid checked baggage fees), I zipped right through the airports.

Staying at Margaret and Andrew's house was so delightfully peaceful: not a single siren pierced the air in 4 days, whereas in my apartment, my phone calls are regularly interrupted by trucks of various kinds: fire, ambulance, sanitation, etc.

The restorative quiet (and pretty flowers -- see the begonias on their front stoop?) have left me in a much better mood, although sitting here on my couch like a bump on a log all day has left not such a good feeling. So, tomorrow I will try to actually assemble my console table before I go back to work on Thursday. Hopefully, tomorrow night I will get to see my sweetie!

Then Thursday afternoon, I have a setup meeting with my radiation oncologist, and Friday is a half day before Labor Day weekend.