Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

  This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

After meeting with the surgeon at Dana-Faber Cancer Institute in Boston, I was supposed to meet with the surgical oncologist. She wasn't available so arrangements were made the following day to meet with her over Zoom so I didn't have to make the trip into Boston again.

She told me radiation treatment after the surgery may not be needed, but that decision would be made based on the lumpectomy pathology report. If radiation was required it would be done Monday through Friday for however many days of treatment. I asked if I could have the treatments at the Milford Campus so I didn't have to commute to Boston for several days or live in a hotel close to Dana-Farber. What a relief to hear, yes, that can be arranged.

T Stands for Patrick's Irish Pub

 

Our last night in Weirs Beach we decided to treat ourselves to dinner at Patrick's Irish Pub in Gilford, New Hampshire. This fun leprechaun greets diners as they enter the restaurant. 

Since it was Saturday night the place was hopping. A young man was singing Irish tunes in the bar. The crowd loved it as they were clapping in time to the music. We were given our choice of eating in the bar or in the quieter dining room. We chose the dining room. 

There were lots of choices on the menu. I decided to go with a special of lobster crabcakes with cottage fries and Coleslaw. Teague isn't really a crustacean fan, but she wanted to try something different so she ordered the same. 

We both decided that the lobster crabcakes were amazing and a good choice. I see I forgot to take a picture of my unsweetened ice tea with lemon. You'll have to content yourself with looking at the water mugs behind the leprechaun in the first photo.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Monet

 

and Miro decided to pose along side Pinky and Clyde. I am submitting this piece to the Worcester Art Museum's Art of the Macabre art show and needed to test to see that it would remain upright.

The piece was actually done as part of the homework for the 26 Seeds masterclass I took with Reggie Ezell in 2017.

When the original call for entries came out, I was busy with classes and didn't have time to do something brand-new. Then the Education Department extended the deadline for entries. I remembered this piece and decided to give it a new life. 

On a trip to the Dollar Store, I had purchased a doll for a Halloween decoration. Himself and I went back because I remembered there was a pink doll and an orange doll. They would make perfect heraldic supporters. 

There wasn't time to have the piece properly framed. I had a white mat and cut some chipboard for the backing. Standing up, the edges were rough so I covered the edges with Washi tape decorated with spider webs.  The dolls are attached to the piece by min-bulldog clips under their ghost sheets. The dolls, spider, and the ghosts from Pacman fame (right to left: Inky, Pinky, Blinky, and Clyde) all got a makeover with googly eyes.

The text is from a Scottish prayer:

From ghoulies and ghosties

And long-leggedy beasties

And things that go

bump in the night

Good Lord deliver us

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Waxing Gibbous Moon and cloud

Sunset the night before the Nor'easter. I thought because of the saying Red sky in the morning sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor's delight, this storm would fizzle out. 

Gusty winds blowing the Fall decorations didn't bother the goldfinch having a snack at the feeder. It's 4 pm Saturday as I write this. The storm was supposed to be furious at this hour. It isn't. I am not complaining. I wish the weather dudes wouldn't hype the storms.

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

Pinwheel Gift Wrap

The Friday Five Good Things

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. Calli and Quill left me a gift.

2. I enjoyed an outing at the Dollar Store and Ocean State Job Lots. Himself knows the best places for a date.

3. A retired colleague surprised me in the museum lobby. She's taking a watercolor class. We'll be making arrangements to go out for coffee

4.  I thought I lost my sunglasses at the museum. I filled out a form for lost and found. At home, I found the sunglasses in the pocket of a different jacket I wore the week before and forgot about. I  felt so stupid when I told my friend at the security desk I found my glasses. She said join the club as she thought she had lost her phone.

5. Another trip to the Dollar Store with an idea for displaying an entry in the museum's Art of the Macabre show

How was your week?

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

Fun In The Snow

Late in the afternoon, The Young One and I had just finished digging my car out of the snow. Cold and tired we were anticipating a well deserved rest and a cup of hot chocolate when the phone rang. Even before I looked at the caller ID, I knew it was Prissy.

Prissy has her large circular driveway plowed, but the plower doesn't shovel her front walk or clean off her car.

"Does the Young One want to earn some money? I'll pay her to shovel my walk and brush off the car." she asked.

"We just finished digging my car out. Do you have a shovel because I broke my good one?"

"Yes, I have shovels and a broom to brush off the car with."

Ok, give us an hour and we'll come over to do yours."

An hour later, The Young One groaned as we pulled on our boots and grabbed gloves.

"Why does she have to have her car dug out now? She won't be going anywhere." said the Young One looking longingly at the laptop.

"I know, but old people are funny that way. They worry about things." I grabbed the crappy shovel and we crossed the street.

"What does she have to worry about?"

"If the snow isn't cleared she'll worry about things like, if she has a heart attack, how will the rescue people get to the front door? How will the oil delivery man deliver the heating oil? How will the electric company read the meter? Stuff like that."

The Young One made the classic teen face and sighed deeply. Her breath plumed in front of her. She took the crappy shovel and began digging out the back of the car.

Prissy came to the front door with shovels and a broom. I waded up the front walk and she handed them to me.

"I'll put my boots on and come out and help you."

"No, that's ok. We got it covered." The last thing I would need would be for Prissy to have a heart attack while shoveling her stairs. I patted my coat pocket to make sure I had my cell phone with me.

"I don't need the whole front walk shoveled," she said. "Just a path so I can get to the car."

I nodded.

A few minutes later, Prissy came out dressed in her coat, boots, hat and gloves.

"Here, let me help you."

"No! Get in the house!"

"Young One, brush the snow off the car this way." Prissy made motions with her mittened hands and started down the stairs.

"Will you get in the house! Go make me a cup of tea!"

Prissy took another step and started to open her mouth.

"Get in the @%$@# house before you slip and fall and break a hip." I played the trump card. "Go put the kettle on, I want a cup of tea."

Prissy mumbled something and went into the house.

The Young One snickered. "Dude," she called to me. "She just wants to help."

"I know, but the last thing we need is her telling us how to shovel or having to call 9-1-1 to have someone come and pick her butt out of the snow. Besides, if she was able to do this, she could have come out earlier in the day and done this instead of waiting until it was dark. Old people," I grumbled.

The Young One regarded me for a minute and nodded sagely.

Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

 This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

Not knowing what to do. I called Dana-Farber and spoke to the new patient intake representative. I told her that the doctors' group had denied the referral and said they could take care of me. I didn't want to be taken care of by them.

She said the intake team verifies insurance before making appointments. She said Dana-Farber uses a red, yellow, green code. Like a traffic light. I was green coded as having insurance that was accepted. She also said I didn't need a referral. 

That afternoon we traveled to Dana-Farber in Boston to meet the surgeon. She discussed the surgery (lumpectomy) and possible treatments after surgery. She was very reassuring. 

T Stands for Back to the Route 104 Diner

Hash it out over breakfast. I love puns

The diner is an old-fashioned 1950s diner. 

I had a chicken gyro and home-made potato chips. I just noticed I forgot to take a picture of my drink which was probably an unsweetened ice tea with lemon. If you look at the picture of the counter and stools, behind the counter you can see the soft drink and ice tea dispenser.

The check was brought out on an old, vinyl 45 record along with two Tootsie Rolls (chocolate taffy kind of candy). We were trying to see if we could make out the title on either side of the record, but the label was too worn. After scrutinizing the label, I told Teague. Oh, I know this song. It goes like this:

The other side of the marquee. Don't go bacon my heart.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Monet, Miro, and Me

 

are admiring a gift my student, "N", made for me. "N" is an incredibly, talented artist. This is the 5th class she has taken with me. What's astonishing about her talent is she just learned a Blackletter script this past Summer. Which means she taught herself this stunning variation!

The piece reads Valar Morghulis. It comes from Game of Thrones and means "all men must die". The typical response is Valar Dohaeris meaning "all men must serve."

"N", thank you so much for this incredible gift.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Falling leaves

Me

Himself

the Eldest

Decorations by the wishing well,

the bird feeder

Petunia decked out as the Autumnal Equinox

The front walk

The Watcher

Deadheaded mums

Sunrise

How does your garden grow?

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

Quick & Easy Circle Punch Flowers | Paper Crafting

The Friday Five Good Things

 

Five good things that happened this week.

1. Himself went out shopping and brought home a rotisserie chicken so I didn't have to cook. Thoughtful or well trained? 😉

2. A dreary, wet day. I enjoyed a cup of Gingerbread Joy tea

3. I finished prepping for all my classes

4. Museum classes began on Tuesday last.

5. Because of aches and pains 2 Old Ladies on the Road need to rename themselves Two Old Ladies on Ice Packs

TBT Reprints from CJ's Whine and Cheeze

  In 2003, Ma had a stroke. Dad was her full time caregiver until he he had a car accident that totaled the car. So in 2006, I became their chauffeur among other jobs.

At the time, to deal with the stress of running two households and working, I kept a blog entitled CJ's Whine and Cheeze. Egged on by some friends who enjoyed the first read through, you'll see your part when it comes by.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

The Day After

Friday, the day after the storm, I called the Weebles to see how they were doing and if they needed the driveway shoveled. Himself had packed a shovel in the trunk of his car and would stop at the Weebles after school to dig them out. Usually, one of the neighbors would snow blow the driveway for Dad, but just in case Himself would be prepared.

I called and the phone rang, and rang and rang. Ma doesn’t move fast and around the nineteenth ring she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I called to see how you were doing. Did you get a lot of snow? Do you need the driveway shoveled?”

“HE’s out there doing it.”

“Who?”

“Your father.”

Silently, I said some choice phrases concerning Weebles, and I looked to the heavens” 🙄

“He shouldn’t be doing that.”

“I know, but he has to go singing.”

I forgot the day. Friday is the Goldenaires glee club rehearsal. Dad is McNamara, the leader of the band, and he’d sooner cut off his right arm then miss anything to do with singing.

His singing is a bone of contention for Ma. She’s jealous of his mobility. He gets out of the house every chance he can get. Either he walks to the Senior Center or one of his “ladies” comes to pick him up. That’s another sore point, the ladies. While Dad is out and about, Ma can’t have him under her thumb.

“He shouldn’t be out shoveling,” I preached to the choir. I wasn’t sure if Dad’s bit of stupidity had to do with his OPD of singing, a death wish, or a combination of both. Most likely, the death wish. If he dropped dead from a heart attack in the middle of the driveway, he’d show her! “Himself will stop by after school to shovel.”

“No, he has his own work to do.”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix HIM.”

I knew she meant Dad and not Himself.

“What will you do?”

“If he moves one toe over the driveway to go singing, I’ll lock him out.”

I laughed. She would too. I remembered a story I heard as a kid. Dad had been out at some Knights of Columbus event. Ma had imposed a Cinderella curfew. In by midnight or else. Midnight came and went with no sign of Dad. She locked both front and back storm doors so he couldn’t get in. He spent the night in the car.

I sent Himself an email. C’mon home. The driveway will be taken care of. I didn’t add and so will Dad.

Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob

 This journal is about my journey with DCIS which began in January 2024. Ductal Carcinoma in Situ. A form of breast cancer. I didn't tell many people. Family, a handful of close friends. I didn't even tell my bosses at the museum where I teach. Somewhere along the line after much prodding and poking, I decided the My DCIS Journey was too boring so retitled the journal Adventures of the Poor, Little Boob.

The Poor, Little Boob has been cancer-free since June 0f 2024, and still has another year of taking hormone therapy and being monitored by an oncologist. My target date for ending the medication and this journey is June1, 2027

I was trying not to stress out over no information about whether my insurance would cover treatment at Dana-Farber Cancer Institute where I wanted to be treated. Dana-Farber had scheduled a date for my surgery on March 1, 2024 and a meeting with the surgeon on February 5. What to do? What to do?

I borrowed one of the Reiki tenets for Reiki a spiritual practice established by its founder, Dr. Mikao Usui.

Just for today I will not worry.

T Stands for Thanksgiving in August

 

After a visit to urgent care, a pizza lunch, and an afternoon at the motel pool. the Two Old Ladies on the Road decided to treat ourselves to a real dinner. We went to the popular Hart's Turkey Farm Restaurant in Meredith, New Hampshire.

I can't remember if it was last year we were there or the year before, but we had their amazing Thanksgiving turkey sandwich called The Gobbler. Real roasted turkey, cranberry sauce, stuffing, gravy on a brioche bun. This year we went all out for the Thanksgiving dinner. 

The waiter, the same one who served us lunch last time, started us off with drinks, I had my usual unsweetened ice tea with lemon. He also brought a delicious, house relish served with crackers. It was hard not to wolf down the relish and crackers because it was so good, but it would also mean not being able to finish dinner. He also brought bread (my downfall) and cornbread. My self-imposed rule on this trip was not bringing leftovers back to the hotel.

We both had ordered the small dinner which came with 3.5 ounces of turkey though it still looked like a lot more. There was also cranberry sauce, stuffing, and gravy. Because eating for the week was mostly going to be pizza, burgers, ice cream, I decided to get a vegetable, green beans, and a plain jacket potato.

We finished dinner and there was no room for dessert. We rolled ourselves back to our little cabin on the hill.

Drop by hosts, Bleubeard and Elizabeth's blog to find out what the rest of the T Stands For gang is up to. If you want to play, include in your Tuesday post a beverage or container for a beverage. Don't forget to link your blog to Bleubeard and Elizabeth's page.

Monet and

 

Miro helped me figure out dimensions to make a log cabin quilt square for a future lesson for the art journaling class I am teaching. The quilt square is paper because I can't sew. 😊

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Changing leaves

I love the colors of the faded hydrangea

The tomato jungle

Tiny pumpkins

Oh, my Gourd!

Himself bought me a broom. He was a little worried I'd be upset that he thought I was a witch. I said, I'm not upset. I come from a long line of Stregas (Italian witches). My mother, her mother, the mother before her...I'm proud of it. Next will be a trip to the Dollar Store to pick up some sort of Fall doodad for it. Oh, the broom is also redolent of cinnamon.

I changed out the Spring/Summer flowers for Fall

The Fall garden flag

A dragonfly on the ragweed that's causing Himself so much grief. The ragweed is causing Himself grief not the dragonfly.

Asters and a pink dianthus

More tomatoes

A giant marigold

Either a green bowling ball or a little watermelon

Brown-eyed Susans and morning glories

Peaches!

How does your garden grow?

Happy, Little, Time Waster

 

My cat went to the neighbours to borrow a tiger plush toy :)

The Friday Five Good Things

CJ Kennedy (She/Her)

Studio Programs Faculty

Worcester Art Museum  |  worcesterart.org  |  (508) 793-4333

55 Salisbury Street  |  Worcester, MA 01609 

 Five good things that happened this week.

1. I was sad to learn my colleague and blog buddy, Andy T. Fish passed away after fighting two rare blood cancers. Andy was a patient and awesome teacher. He was a most excellent, blog buddy, too. I'm glad I had the opportunity to know him. Godspeed, Andy.

2. Three of the four classes I put in to teach are running.

3. The museum informed staff that we all have to have the same signature in our emails so we match the new branding of the museum. I was able to get the new signature to work. I am insufferably pleased with myself.

4. It was such a nice day on my weekly visit to Teague, we decided to eat lunch outside. We had lunch at the Outpost Turkey Farm.

5. Besides eating outside, I also bought a couple of Apple Cider donuts. I had one with my afternoon tea. It was so fresh!

How was your week?