You hurt my feelings.

You hurt my feelings. I’m so FREAKIN’ tired of hearing that!  I have been on this Earth for 42 years and in the past 3 years I’ve grown so tired of hearing the words, “you/he/she hurt my feelings.” Seriously people, grow some thicker skin and move the F%$& on!

And now for today’s shake-my-head-until-gray-matter-comes-oozing-out-of-my-ears moment…

I sent a request to 61 team members for a piece of information so mundane and easily accessible that EVERY one of them should have been able to respond in less than 10 minutes.

The question: What size shirt would you like me to order for you?

I asked that question on Thursday, March 19th and stated that responses were required “no later than Wednesday, March 25th.  As of noon today, I’d heard from 60 of the 61 people asked.  So, I followed up with the last hold-out:

Me: You are the ONLY person who has not responded to the size shirt you’d like me to order.  That order will be replaced tomorrow.  If I don’t hear from you, you’ll be getting the same size your ordered last year.

Hold-Out: I apologize.  I was planning to measure myself tonight, I thought we had until tomorrow to get back to you. Wed., 3/25.

Me: I’m placing the order tomorrow.  Nothing like waiting until the last minute.

Care to guess who got called into HR due to the tone of the note?  Yep, THIS GIRL!

Featured image

Because the Hold-Out’s feelings were hurt.  GROW THE F%$& UP PEOPLE!


Secrets are the currency of intimacy…

Featured image

Have you ever heard of “PostSecret”?

PostSecret is an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard.  The secrets are then posted to the internet at  I’ve been reading the secrets of other people for almost 2 years and I’ve discovered a few things…

1) Some secrets are frightening

Featured image

2) Some secrets are… gross

Featured image

3) Some secrets are funny

Featured image

4) Some secrets are sad

Featured image

5) Some of your secrets are my secrets too

I think I’ve read every single secret thought I’ve ever had on this site or in the Post Secret book.  That’s what struck me the most about this project, I’m not alone.  And neither are you.

But it’s just our little secret.

The Cricket Box…

This weekend my family said, “goodbye” to my Great Aunt Eileen, known to most of us as Aunt Hike (pronounced High-kee).  She was 88 years old at the time of her death (Thursday, February 19th).

Things I loved most about her:

1) She shot from the hip.  You never had to guess where you stood with her and as long as you treated her with respect, she appreciated the same from you.

2) She loved animals – all animals, but she especially loved dogs.  She’d call you just to find out how the dog was doing and ask you to bring the pooch with you the next time you came to visit.  My mom even took a box of dog treats to Aunt Hike’s house so that she could give them to our dogs when they visited.  She deliberately took the teeny-tiny ones… knowing full well that Aunt Hike had no self-control when it came to treating the puppies.

3) The Cricket Box.  Aunt Hike had a brass cricket box in her house for as long as I can remember.  When change fell out of Uncle Joe’s pockets and into the couch cushions, she’d snap it up and put it in the cricket box.  When we were little kids, we’d walk through the door and RACE to the cricket box as fast as we could.  Elbows were thrown, eyes were poked out, shins were kicked… because if you got to the cricket box first you got to keep whatever was inside of it.  Children spilled blood for $0.35.

When my cousin Josh graduated from high school (a year after me), instead of a generous check (which I got) as a gift from Aunt Hike & Uncle Joe, Josh got a generous check INSIDE THE CRICKET BOX!  I don’t know how he rated that honor, but I was pissed and I let Aunt Hike know it… for years to come.  I told her I was holding a grudge for the rest of my life.  I didn’t really mind (as far as you know), but it gave us something to talk and giggle about.

About 5 years ago, Aunt Hike was at a rummage sale and found a cricket box.  It wasn’t as big or as sturdy as they one from my childhood, but she couldn’t leave without it.  She called me, “you have to stop over, I have something for you… and bring the dog.”  When I made it over, she told me to go look in on the shelf in the closet.  Low and behold… a cricket box.  I laughed, she laughed and when we finally took a breath she said, “aren’t you going to look inside?”  I expected to find a few coins for old time’s sake and to my surprise… FIVE DOLLARS!  That’s the biggest haul (with the exception of Josh’s graduation check) in cricket box history!!!!

Aunt Hike lost a lot these last years of her life; a child, a husband, her sight, but she never lost her passion for family, friends, and animals and she NEVER lost her sense of humor.

Rest in peace, Aunt Hike.  You’ve earned it.

Looking forward…

It’s Wednesday and I’ve got to tell you, I’ve been looking forward to the weekend since Monday at 5:00 p.m.  I’d really love to tell you that I was going to plant my butt on a beach and just listen to the waves crash to shore.  However, this is my weekend forecast:

Featured image

But I don’t care!  If you’ve been reading then you know that I’ve been moping around for 2 weeks and now it’s time to (Cher slaps Nicholas Cage across the face), “SNAP OUT OF IT!”  I’m going to bundle up and dance in the snow.  Maybe I’ll even make a snow angel or two.


1) Clean the house – That’s the first chore to get back-burnered when I’m down and MAN can you tell, especially since there is snow/salt residue all over my floors.  So I’ll clean them just in time for the dog to come in and mess them up again.  😉

2) Grocery store – This is my FAVORITE chore.  No, really.  I look forward to going to the grocery store EVERY WEEK!  If I could make a living out of grocery shopping for people, I’d be doing what I love.  And do NOT forget to buy wine – Having dinner with some good friends from MIDDLE SCHOOL (OMG… I’ve known these people for 30 years).

3) Laundry – Aaaand that’s my LEAST favorite chore.  I think I’d rather scrub toilets… ALL DAY.  My disdain for laundry could be an entire blog post so I’ll save this for later.

4) Move snow – As  you can see, I’m likely to be doing this more than once this weekend.  But, I’m going to use my NEW snow blower.  YAY!!!

5) Couch time – Gotta have my couch time with the pooch.  On the go all day / weekend and then collapse on the couch with the sweetest dog to walk the earth (BTW… that’s a totally objective description of her).  I think this is my favorite part of the day.  Nothing like zoning out to TV with a warm dog laying across your lap.

Oh boy… I cannot wait!

Cause for celebration!

I struggled being in the office yesterday.  I truly thought I was going to lose it.  And then it happened…  I got the call yesterday at 4:54 from the surgeon…  All biopsies came back negative – BENIGN! BENIGN! BENIGN!

Deep cleansing breaths followed by a couple of well-deserved glasses of wine and a piece of my favorite cake!


Waiting SUCKS!

I’ve decided that having a biopsy on a Friday is a most cruel and unusual punishment.  My biopsy took place Friday afternoon after 2 more mammograms and another ultrasound.

Here’s the good news:  Originally the mammo center stated that there were 3 areas of concern.  The surgeon’s office couldn’t find more than two (couldn’t replicate the third one) and one of them they’re convinced is dense breast tissue which causes shadows on ultrasounds.  The Dr. who did my biopsy actually said, “This is awful to say, but ultimately, you can make an ultrasound look like anything.”  Really… that’s comforting.  So rather than take a biopsy in three locations, they only took two.  The biopsy of the shadowed area was just to prove to themselves and me that it is, in fact, nothing to be concerned about.

Now for the bad news: The second spot wasn’t received with such skepticism.  Biopsy Doc actually said that it was most concerning to her of all of the locations and the results could go either way.  Call me crazy, but that did not give me a good feeling.  If this doc thought that that it was nothing, I don’t think she would have said, “it could go either way.”

And for the even WORSE news:  I’ve spent the last 66 hours thinking about NOTHING else.  And then it gets worse… they don’t expect results until late Tuesday or Wednesday.  So I could be waiting up to 96 hours for the results of this damn test.

To say that I would give my right arm for an anti-anxiety pill right now is an understatement! 

Featured image

Want to know what you do while you wait?  You spend every waking hour looking up every possible outcome on the Internet.  Surgery: Lumpectomy vs. Mastectomy?  Reconstruction: TRAM Flap vs. Implants?  How long will I be off of work?  How long until my short-term disability kicks in?  How much of my pay will I actually receive?  How am I going to do this financially?

And then the biggest, scariest question of all:  If the news is bad… how do I tell my mom?

Today is biopsy day – Don’t judge me.

I woke up this morning not at all sure how to feel about this.  Of course everyone who knows (and I haven’t told many people) is telling me to “stay positive” and that it’s “most likely nothing.”  And that’s likely to be true.

I don’t have a history of breast cancer in my family, but I do have a history, according to my mother, of “lumpy bumpy breasts.”  And while that thought should be comforting, I can’t help but remember being 14-15 years old (after thinking I was dying – and for which my parents told me to just sit down and catch my breath), telling my mom that I think I might have asthma.  She said, “You don’t have asthma… it’s hereditary and nobody in our family has it.”

A few things;  1.  Asthma is not entirely hereditary, 2. My response to that was, “well, if it is hereditary, it has to start somewhere!” and 3.  Guess who has asthma… THIS GIRL!

So, right now, I’m not exactly comforted by the fact that there isn’t a history of breast cancer in my family.

Here’s the other, and most concerning, non–comforting thought:  If you knew me, you’d know that, in my life, if it can go wrong… it will go wrong.  But even that thought is neither here nor there at the moment.

This morning I found myself to be torn on whether or not I actually want it to be “The Big C” (and of course I’m not ready to say the C-word out loud, or in print for that matter).   I know you’re thinking, “how in the hell can you possibly want to have IT?”

Well, part of me says if it is the “C” word, then it’s VERY early stage and totally survivable.  And if it is (even if it’s REALLY early), I’m 100% resolute in the fact that a radical mastectomy is the route for me.  No lumpectomies for this girl.  Why would I put myself through this hell every six months for the rest of my life?  Mammo, ultrasound, biopsy, WAIT THREE DAYS FOR PATHOLOGY!  No thank you.

I’m just not one of those women who would feel like less of a woman without my breasts.  Don’t get me wrong… I’m ALL about reconstruction.  Firmer and perkier I say!

But if it’s not you-know-what, then am I going to have to live with lumpy bumpy breasts, probably on a 6 month mammogram recall, wondering and waiting for the rest of my life?  Thinking, every 6 months, is this the time that I go in for my mammo, ultrasound, biopsy and it’s NOT nothing?

For now, I guess I’m just waiting to SEE if it’s THE BIG C.