Le monde de fromage de Kate

LIVESTRONG™ Day 2008 is fast approaching: Tuesday, May 13, 2008. And I must say, I'm a little discouraged and sad. I'm sad because we have a new cancer diagnosis in the family. Granted, that is why I'm involved in this "cause"; we need not only to find cures and help those who cannot survive cancer to die with dignity, but we need to STOP the many diagnoses that would be so easy to prevent. But still, in the back of my mind I guess I still have a small belief that every family has a "cancer quota" and we are FAR BEYOND IT.

I am discouraged, because I had a plan for a LIVESTRONG™ Day 2008 activity that was all about disseminating information and awareness - Cancer Awareness: "Knowledge is Power" - at a hospital in Salt Lake (as well as giving away Wristbands, etc.). I had a positive impression after speaking with the PR director; she just needed to speak with the hematology/oncology big-wigs. They kept me hanging on for almost a month, but I honestly didn't think they'd turn me down so I hadn't checked with my possible contingency locations. WRONG. No go.

I called another venue. Again, the public relations person seemed very positive. However, the next day, after consulting with whoever it was who had to be consulted, she sent me an email saying they'd decided it wasn't "a good fit." This institution has "cancer" IN THEIR NAME, so I'm a tad baffled.

I'm certainly not "dissing" these places in terms of the quality of their care. I just don't understand why they aren't on board with this opportunity. I'm NOT fundraising, as I assumed that would be a problem with not-for-profit entities; I just want to educate and inform people. Also, I want to give people a chance to memorialize someone they've lost to cancer, someone who's fighting cancer, or someone who has had great success with treatment.

Last year in D.C. was so amazing. Granted, I lost a friend and an uncle while I was there. And much, MUCH less importantly I spent that important day with a dead animal appended to the back of my head.

This year, the Lance Armstrong Foundation is closing its doors on LIVESTRONG™ Day. Everyone who works there will be attending one of the more than 500 LOCAL events taking place around the country. I haven't COMPLETELY lost hope that I'll find a venue (if you wouldn't mind a crazy lady sitting in your lobby ANYWHERE - oh WITH her amazing, beautifulest survivor Niephew, Sarah - handing out awareness information and FREE wristbands, please let me know). No matter what, I want to make you aware of at least ONE Utah opportunity (you can go to the LANCE ARMSTRONG FOUNDATION website to look up activities near you):

PLEASE go get some sweeties at Vicky Fletcher's Cookies for a Cure Bake Sale (she is the LIVESTRONG™ Local Army Leader Utah Valley - she was already doing ALL the hard work but I had to convince her that she might be able to use the title at some point as she's she's very, very humble).

I'll keep you posted as to my progress in terms to finding a venue (which is NOT to say that you should miss out on buying pastries from Vicky Fletcher!).

Just a quick update on Grandma Lee. She had her colon resection yesterday. Following is a brief description (and YES, I say "rectum" at least twice, possibly three or four times - so you can either ignore the paragraph altogether or just suck it up):

The surgery went pretty well. They removed the tumor, which sounded like it was even longer than any of the scan images I've seen. They took out the rectal stent (hallelujah). The surgeon was able to connect her intestines/colon to her rectum, but the tissue is fragile, swollen and whatnot (partially because of the radiation) and at one point they found a little fistula in part of her small intestines (which they fixed). Consequently, he did an illiostomy (looping part of the small intestine to keep some of the waste from going through rectum, giving it time to heal better in order to avoid a failure of the connection and a permanent colostomy).

She's in intermediate care now - a step below the Intensive Care Unit - (largely due to her age - she's 81) so that they can take closer care of her. She's stable. I think her biggest complaint right now would be dry mouth (she's going through those little spongy mouth moisteners like there was no tomorrow) because she can't have anything - not even ice chips - until her bowels make some sort of appropriate "noise." I don't know what it's supposed to be, but I hope it's musical and happens very soon.

Thanks to everyone for their love and support.

Dear Rit® Dye People:

Pink. Pink? I'm no expert, indeed, but when one dyes several white objects comprised of natural fibers (as per instructions) and adds the cup of salt to the dye mix (as per instructions) and inserts the items into the washing machine "wet and unfolded" (as PER INSTRUCTIONS) and one uses TAN DYE (#16) one expects said items to turn some shade of TAN. Okay, I admit that, uhm, someone may have used a surfeit of said dye, but one still expects a result in the tan colour family.

Rather, I discovered THREE DIFFERENT SHADES of PINK when the garments were examined in the washing machine. Bleach did nothing to diminish this phenomenon. Therein were gentle pink, PINK pink, and some shade of...CORAL.

That is all. Just wondered.

Sincerely,
A Curious Consumer

Perhaps more important things later?

Okay, he didn't directly cause me to turn on the waterworks, but it is, without question, his fault. It was, after all, an item I found through his "Check It" that precipitated my tears.

As usual, I have some 'splainin' to do. Periodically, I visit The Art of Blogging Without Blogging to see Western Dave's photos - sometimes lovely, sometimes whimsical, sometimes bizarre... Then I take a look at his "Check It" list. The title inspires me, despite my status as "Whitest Woman in the World," to sing (just in my mind - never fear - only a half-crazy impulse) "Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch CHECK IT OUT! Wha-wha-wha-wha What's it all about?" Inexcusable, I realize.

Last week or so a tidbit about Mister Rogers caught my eye. Thursday, March 20th would have been Mister Rogers' eightieth birthday. Western Dave linked to the following announcement about wearing one's favourite sweater that day. Please watch it; it's Mr. McFeely after all (and just so you know, HE'S NOT REALLY OLD. I'd rather not admit MY age when I learned about that). Here's some additional information concerning the event:

In honor of what would have been Mister Rogers' 80th birthday on March 20, Mr. McFeely -- aka David Newell, the public relations director for Family Communications, Inc. (the nonprofit company founded in 1971 by Fred Rogers) -- has a special request.

"We're asking everyone (including members of the media) everywhere (from Pittsburgh to Paris) to wear their favorite sweater on that day," he asks. "It doesn't have to have a zipper down the front like the one Mister Rogers wore on the program, it just has to be special to you."

Sweater Day is part of Pittsburgh's 250th anniversary celebration and the first-ever "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" Days March 15 -- 20.

"We wanted to recognize Fred in a way that would reflect his deep appreciation of what it means to be a caring neighbor," explains FCI's Margy Whitmer.

As a result, "'Won't You Be My Neighbor?" Days was born as a means of promoting neighborliness throughout Fred Rogers' own backyard -- Southwestern Pennsylvania region.

Throughout WYBMND more than 30 organizations have signed up to participate.

For more information about Sweater Day and "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" Days visit www.misterrogers.org.

This project supported in part by Pittsburgh 250 Community Connections and The Sprout Fund."

After watching Mr. McFeely, I watched Mister Rogers in couple of videos. The footage of him testifying in front of Congress in 1969 is just amazing. With a gentle spirit but perfect candor - and in less than ten minutes - he prevented a grant for the Corporation of Public Broadcasting from being cut in half. Quintessential Fred Rogers. Kind, honest and compassionate to everyone he encountered.

Some people don't get it. His genuine and unparalleled sincerity was and is so rare; perhaps that's why some people just can't buy it. They should watch this:

Sitting alone in the middle of the night, only part-way through a minute and twenty-five seconds of film, I found tears streaming down my face. This is the section that hit me the hardest:

I'm just so proud of all of you who have grown up with us. And I know how tough it is some days to look with hope and confidence on the months and years ahead. But I would like to tell you what I often told you when you were much younger: I like you just the way you are.

I like you just the way you are.

Ha ha ha...

Okay, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAREST FATHER!!! (It was technically yesterday, March 7th.) Wow. It's the big sixty-five, which, of course, in birthday math, is only ONE. And I like how we'll always be the same birthday age. One is a lovely age. Too bad it's the loneliest number.

I'm also thrilled that you've decided to "officially" retire at sixty-five, rather than your original plan of seventy (INSANITY). I wish your impetus for making that decision could be different.

Mind you, I know the Brigham Young University Professor secret - BYU PROFESSORS DON'T REALLY RETIRE. They take the nice "retirement" present, enjoy the party and the roast, get a kick out of the "Emeritus" title, and keep working as long as humanly possible. I swear there are professors rattling around that campus who are at least two hundred and sixty-five years old. I'm not kidding. It's a little unnerving - vaguely reminiscent of the walking dead (the well-read walking dead?). I'm quite certain that I added "walking dead" to the caveat section of my list, oh so many years back, that helped me choose to go to the University of Utah.

By the way, you don't fool me with all your "organizing the garage into a better workshop" twaddle. Nope. Cold turkey is NOT your thing.

My fondest hope, my Birthday wish for you, is that when the time comes, you will take more time to fish, more time to wind-up the grandkids, more time to scream "WooHoo" at football games on TV, more time for the mountains - maybe even some time to get to some wonderful beaches.

I love you!

Well, t'would be if the whole InterWeb read it, right?

Dearest Monkey Cats,

I can't tell how sorry I am that I let you down. Literally, because of tears and snot and the pills haven't kicked in yet. And when they do, I won't have the ability to articulately tell you how contrite, remorseful, penitent and ashamed I am that I let down those who I wanted to support the most, and I will no doubt wander off the topic (WHAT? ME WANDER OFF THE TOPIC? THE EARTH IS OFF ITS AXIS!!!! DOGS AND CATS - aren't they cute?) - ah - yes, that's it - I would start talking about how the earth is REALLY an oblate spheroid and WHY DO I KNOW THAT?? Also, purple sea urchins and their scientific name - WHY DO I REMEMBER THAT????? - it's Strongylocentrotus purpuratus

So I won't go into the whys and whats and wherefores. You know them anyway as far as they can be understood. Just know this:

• I'm so PROUD you made it to regionals with the trio and two solos (was it more?); that's so amazing! And that was in SPITE of anything I did!


• I believe if all is fair in the World (well, it isn't, but I hope for you and for today it is) that you will make it to State competition most certainly despite me.


• Bless you for being so sweet and kind about my ultimate flake-i-tude. You are such wonderful young ladies (and I get to say that 'cause I'm old). I refrained from saying you are "sweet spirits," though it's true.


• Which reminds me, thank you for keeping an old lady vaguely in touch with the popular culture of today! It makes me happy. YOU guys make me happy. I can't keep up with you, but that comes with being old and decrepit.

So there you have it. I love you!

Most Fondly and Repentantly,
CHA Kate (well - CAKE)

P.S. No matter what, I think I should get to take credit for the lack of "Adam and Eve" in any performance you ever do. May I take small comfort from that?

P.P.S. Oh - also, despite the stress and whatnot, Nessa, I've no doubt that whoever played the Fauré for you did not massacre the certain passages that I do (though I slaughter it WITH a poised demeanor, a certain flair, and - seemingly against all odds - a straight face. I didn't go to University for NUTHIN').

Wow.

Evidently that's a more frightening picture than I had originally thought. I believe I can HEAR people averting their eyes.

Fair enough.

If you know me, you've probably heard me say that I'm The Whitest Woman in The World (with the exception of Faith Partee*). I should add that it's with the exception (WARNING: Over-sharing ahead) of the times that my OLD HORMONES cause flushy-red-face-weirdness. But never mind that. I am, usually, The Whitest Woman in The World (except, though I've not seen her in years, I trust, Faith Partee). Ah - but then - look at THIS:

Yes. That's me. Un-retouched. Okay - I did darken the white spots in my pupils because I think the image is creepy enough. I know, I know, I have rules (self-imposed) about showing my image on my blog that I've only broken maybe twice in over five years. Moreover, for going on half a decade I've strongly maintained that I did NOT want to memorialize this era in my life in pictures including me at all. And, as many of you know, I hate pictures of myself PERIOD. That is, in part, because I am not photogenic - no I am NOT; any picture with my eyes open is a small miracle in and of itself.

But I've given up. Don't get me wrong - THIS IS NOT OPEN SEASON FOR PICTURES OF KATE. And I can only write this because my Father will not read this. He has no sense of "personal space" whatsoever when it comes to taking pictures.

So what changed my mind? Well, first, I thought - WHO REALLY CARES. Secondly, I saw a surreptitious shot my Father had taken on Christmas morning and I had, I kid you not, a moment of, "Who is that Lady?" before I realized it was ME. And I do think that despite anything and everything, one SHOULD recognize one's self in a photograph.

But let me back up a little. AH, the magnanimous spirit of the Holiday season. My Dad had a new camera. And though it was three billion times easier to use than his previous expensive model (which he somehow broke), he still didn't quite get it. On Christmas Even, I believe, I walked into the office and he BEGGED me to let him take a picture. I believe he bandied about the word "festive" regarding my appearance (sheesh). I rolled my eyes and said, "FINE," and let him go at it, despite the frizzed/smushed, snowed-on hair and whatnot.

Then I saw the picture and wondered if I should be so laissez-faire about my new photography policy. Remember how I'm The Whitest Woman in The World (with the exception of Faith Partee)? Well, if one is to take this picture seriously, I beat Faith Partee hands down.

It's a miraculous shot, I must say. It erases my eyebrows to some extent AND my under-eye luggage (I can't complain about that). Any semblance of colour in my lips - gone... Odd contour shadows about the outside of my face... Oh -but I want everyone to know that despite all my flaws, I do NOT have jowls. Rather, my jawline does not extend forward into a logical, strong conclusion. Instead, I have this pointy little chin THAT I AM NOT AFRAID TO USE. Perhaps it's to match my pointy tongue... (not FORKED - pointy). But my very favourite thing is that my Father has bestowed open me Owen Wilson's nose. HOW? I couldn't tell you. In real life, if you must know, my nose resembles a little potato. Yes, my Father is always funniest when he does not intend it.

So there it is. What the hell.

*Faith, if you should, by some miracle, happen to read this, I mean no offense when I say that you are The Whitest Woman in The World. In fact, I would vote you the head of the Flawless Victorian Complexion Society and would be deliriously happy to be a member (with breaks for when I'm oddly flushy).

Happy Valenslime and All That Jazz

It's late, yes, but EXTRA festive to make up for its tardiness. Besides, if I'd posted an entry ON Valentine's Day that would have not been in keeping with my whole boycotting posture. Bah HumCupid.

The item contained herein needs a back story (yeah, yeah - everything I DO needs a back story, I know...). Over the holidays, My Baby Brother and his Lovely Wife WITH VERY FORCEFUL KINDNESS helped sort through my impressive quantity of crap precious belongings so we could make room to empty my storage unit and put my furniture in the basement (a process which also involved the grinding off of lock with a titanium hasp - I will no doubt locate the combination in its "safe" place any day now). This process wrought many an interesting (or sweet or utterly horrific) discovery. Ask Grettir; he received a couple of the most special "finds." (This, however, must be a story for another time.) We found fascinating things that belonged to my siblings, my Parents, my Grandparents (DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT TELL GRANDMA LEE THAT ANYTHING BELONGING TO HER OR HER PARENTS WAS TOUCHED as she has plenty to freak out about at this moment) and my great-grandparents.

One "treasure chest" belonging to my Father yielded some interesting "art" by young Shirleen and Kate. The "chest," in and of itself, was pretty cool; it was an army surplus foot locker that had been painted (a slightly different green than "army" green, I believe). Evidently this was the only piece of furniture my Father brought to my Parents' marriage. Well - he did construct some very fashionable brick and board bookcases...

Some of the creative masterpieces were not, unfortunately, signed. I put them on the refrigerator anyway. We also found this:

However, "Guess Who Sent This Valentine!" indeed! It is well within the Kate and Shirleen era (you can tell by the rampant penchant for using that stupid, ubiquitous gift-wrap yarn to make bows for EVERYTHING - we wore it, we wrapped with it, we probably used lengths of the stuff as jump ropes).

Then there's the kitten. All throughout my childhood I desperately wanted a kitten. My Father, unfortunately, professed a "deathly" allergy to the creatures. Talk about hyperbole. We're ALL allergic to felines, actually, but NO ONE in the family cannot deal with the situation. In fact, I believe that my allergies to my Kitten Children have lessened significantly over time.

Anyhoo, the über-pink-super-kitty thematic elements make me lean towards the possibility that I gave this Valentine to my Father. Let's turn it over and see if there are any other clues:

Ah. "TV" gave this touching greeting to my Dad. The priorities of the young (even decades ago).

This leads me to believe that Shirleen was the author of this affectionate message. First of all, I'm guessing she might have been able to spell better than I at this point (or at least write letters when prompted). Moreover, the lovely lady pictured in the television seems to have the correct (or nearly accurate) number of digits on the displayed hand.

I believe I was still at the stage where each of the "hands" in my drawings consisted of a ball. This ball was appended with - oh - two dozen or so (I get the impression the number of appendages was according to whim) additional "balls" that represented fingers (interestingly, not necessarily the same number per "hand").

In addition, the rendering of the television and the character inside is quite impressive. And examine the casters and the KNOBS - sheer genius. Shirleen still is a far superior artist to me (always has been).

Lastly, if I'd prepared this card, it would have said something to the effect of:

Most doting and warm greetings to my Most Beloved Father on this, the occasion of Cupid's yearly spree. From your most adoring daughter, Kathryn. XOXOXOXOXOXO

Consequently, I believe Shirleen is to blame responsible for this one. You'll have to tell me what you think, my most esteemed elder Sister.

Tomorrow is very festive SUPER n' FAT TUESDAY!!!

If you're voting in the Primary Election tomorrow, please consider a essential and largely forgotten issue in this race for a new President: THE WAR ON CANCER, THE NUMBER ONE CAUSE OF DEATH FOR AMERICANS UNDER AGE EIGHTY-FIVE that has received an obscene lack of coverage.

This year, the Lance Armstrong Foundation sponsored the LIVESTRONG™ Presidential Cancer Forum on August 27 and 28, 2007, inviting all Democratic and Republican Candidates to share their views on cancer and related healthcare issues. Six candidates responded (and not to show any personal bias, but four Democrats accepted the invitation and only two Republicans did. Hmm). If you'd like to see video or read transcripts of what the candidates said (even though only a few of these candidates are left in the race) as well as commentary on the forum, visit the LAF's Presidential Cancer Forum Page. At the very least, I do think it gives a sense of prevalent attitudes for each of the major parties concerning this topic.

So celebrate SUPER FAT TUESDAY! Sin, beads, politics - it's all good.