Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Wienerdog Wednesday

Marilyn Monroe in Paris, 1959 (Paris Match)
Like Marilyn here, I've had my hands full lately. I'm just back from 5 days in St. Paul, MN, where the women are strong and, thankfully, so is the coffee. There's not much worse than conferences where I have to endure 12 hour days fueled by brownish hot water posing as coffee. 

I got out of St. Paul Sunday, just before Astro blew into town. Now I'm back in Bubbaville, taking the day off to unpack and, assuming the morning cloud cover will eventually pass, take a long stroll in the warm sun before the Polar Whatever-it-is moves down to Dixie. 

I think my next trip needs to be solely for pleasure, and somwhere warm. I wonder if I have enough hotel points to score a stay in N'Orleans  . . . .

Sunday, October 5, 2014

Out, out, damned spot!*

(* or: My First Cancer)
Don't pick at that spot!
It started as a zit -- or that's what I thought it was. But zits typically aren't persistent enough to come back to the same place over several years -- especially once one is in their 50s and safely past pubescent hormonal fluctuations. (In my case, any hormonal fluctuations at all.) Of course, the first time I consulted a dermatologist about it, the spot in question had gone into hiding. The other bumps I had examined and excised at that time proved innocent, so I was hopeful that the blemish that made regular visits to my nose was harmless, too.

This summer, though, the damned spot came and stayed. It bled. It got red. And bigger. It had to go. 

Long story short, a month ago I had the spot scooped out and scrutinized, and as my dermatologist suspected, it was indeed a basal cell carcinoma. The literature says that if you're going to have an epidermal malignancy, BCC is the way to go, as it doesn't metastasize. It can, however, run more than skin deep, and the procedure I had may have left some of the overachieving cells behind. So I'll be keeping an eye on my nose -- and on all those other freckles, bumps, moles, and "age spots" that dot my carcass like points of interest on a roadmap. 
I guess as long as nobody else is going to take an interest in my body, it might as well be my dermatologist. I just wish I didn't have to pay for the attention.

Saturday, September 27, 2014

The "B" Word

Depends what your definition of "fun" is, I guess.

At my great-niece's birthday party this summer, my brother-in-law looked at me with concern for some moments before he finally asked, "What happened to your hair? Where did the red go?"

I wish I knew.

Ever since my teens, it seems, I can remember my mother telling me how lucky I was to have red tresses, because redheads don't go grey. Well, although I don't seem destined for the sort of lush silvery gray hair that adorns some heads, since the arrival of my half-century birthday, my hair most definitely is turning a whiter shade of pale. Each time I get a haircut, I lose more of my red coloring. And, worst of all, new acquaintances have taken to calling me the B-word -- Blonde.


I suppose there is nothing wrong with being blonde, if you're born that way. But so much of my identity is wrapped up in my red-headedness, and others' perceptions of what red-headedness means, that lately I feel a psychic sort of loss. Being a redhead has brought me much attention, both wanted and not. Many women have expressed envy of my tresses, one former workmate even going so far as to have her hairdresser attempt to duplicate my color. (But if you aren't a natural redhead, you won't look like a natural redhead no matter how talented your colorist -- sorry!) Men's reactions have varied, the worst being inquiries as  to whether the output from follicles on various body regions matches that from othe follicles on my head. To be fair, I suppose many fair-haired women have been the recipient of that line, to which the only correct response is "You'll never know." 

If blondes have more fun, the mythology around us redheads has us enjoying sex more  -- and more often, having short tempers, being agents of Satan, and according to the ancient Greeks, turning into vampires after we die. 

THAT sounds like more fun to me!

Thursday, July 31, 2014

What next?

I'm beginning to feel like my recently-earned graduate degree is about as marketable as Herr Reiche's arboreal elephant concept, above. Thankfully, my job search efforts are less desperate than they would be if I didn't currently have a job that I'm trying to flee. Nevertheless, I am trying really, really hard to not even entertain, let alone invite, the possibility that I might be stuck in this same job 11 months from now. So far, though, my combined experience and education has only brought opportunities for unpaid committee work. That looks nice on my resume, but it doesn't help pay down the credit card balance . . .

At least being finished with school means I have time to work a second job, if it comes to that. *sigh*

Saturday, June 28, 2014

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Sights of the Season

Little Guests in the Moon Palace, via Dangerous Minds    


 This Chinese poster isn't actually in celebration of Easter or Spring, but rather to promote that country's space program. 

How come NASA doesn't have any cutsey posters urging today's kids to put down their iPhones and their Redbulls and take an interest in space? When was the last time you heard a little boy or girl say they wanted to be an astronaut when they grow up? Does the US even have a space program anymore? 

At any rate . . . this art made me think of the coming Bunny-themed holiday, which I personally prefer to celebrate in a very non-traditional way. Except for the mass consumption of chocolate part. 

Enjoy your whatever-you-celebrate however you want to. Hopefully with (paid) time off!

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

It's Wednesday, and you know what that means . . .

...Wienerdog Wednesday!!!

Source: John F. Kennedy Presidential Library and Museum

 From the Wienerdogs in History Category:  "John F. Kennedy with "Dunker" during tour of Europe in the summer of 1937, The Hague, August 1937."

Remember the days when those who grew up in privilege also felt an obligation to serve those without? I'm not raising the Kennedys up to sainthood, but there was -- and continues to be -- something about them and their call to public service that seems far too rare in the majority of 1%-ers making headlines today. 

(And the Bush dynasty doesn't count!)

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Wienerdog Wednesday

(Source: Eleanor)

There has been plenty of opportunity this winter to stay inside and scan the interwebs for graphical depictions of sausage dogs. Resident dachshund Scooter Pie is more than ready for Spring to arrive - and so are the rest of us!

Monday, March 17, 2014

Mondays are still meh...

"Crows in Moonlight" by Ohara Koson (1927)

This month's full moon, the Crow Moon, supposedly signals the end of winter. I think some of the local crows will be unhappy with this morning's freezing rain, though.

I'm ready for winter to  be done, myself. This year the persons who decide to do such things decided to name all winter storms the way they name hurricanes, and since this week we are being ravaged by Wiley - or Waldo, depending on your weather source, the end of the alphabet must surely mean the end of winter.

It remains to be seen whether or not my muse comes out of hibernation any time soon, however. 

Monday, February 17, 2014

Monday meh, with bonus wienerdog!

Artist unknown.