Elbow Grease

As of yesterday, I have enjoyed my job for 90-days. When I say “enjoy,” I actually mean that I enjoy my job. I do not mind getting up early. I do not mind driving downtown. I can say, “I love my job.” Every job has it peaks and valleys. Overall, I see more peaks. My mind is engaged and I meet people everyday. Most people have been very welcoming while others have been more distant and cautious. I’m patient. I’ll wait. I am happy to be here. I did not get here by accident.


If there were a timeline of my work history, it would stretch back some 19-years. I have been employed since I was 16 years old. I did my time working retail and restaurant jobs. I quickly discovered that neither of those options were career paths. Retail and restaurant jobs are “hold overs” or platforms until the next great career option comes along. Although, the retail outlet I worked for pushed for me to be in higher management positions, I refused and realized I needed to seek other options. In high school and college, I worked full-time and attended classes full-time. I balanced more in one week than some can manage in a month. My parents taught me young if I wanted something, you have to work for it. I have worked my rear off.

Hard work does pay off. Certainly, I know people who have worked harder for things, but I have used some serious elbow grease to explore all of my opportunities. It feels good to see my work pay off. I own my home. My car is paid off. I carry some student loan debts but it’s manageable. I am planning a wedding on a shoe string budget this year. I am not taking any vacations or doing any extensive traveling. The odd thing is, I am happy. This year is focused on a rebuilding of sorts.

I’ve had to rebuild what I lost when my career path swerved into another lane. I started with rebuilding my confidence. I have worked to identify my true friends, the ones who really want the truth when they ask, “how’s it going?” I’ve worked hard to take inventory and not be around negative, drama inducing, or victimized individuals. It is so easy to get sucked in with these types. I have work to do and it does not involve cleaning up life messes. I have always heard “it can be worse.” The thing is, this is true. No matter what bad day I’ve had, someone else has endured a worse day. The things I complain about are small.



Victor likes to think in the bathroom.


I have other things to look forward to this year including a small and simple wedding. I come home to my fiancé and enjoy it. We laugh at the same jokes. We say the same things. We may never have a large house, a garage, or even a single stainless steel appliance. However, we get to spend time with each other, raise our golden retriever and laugh at our sizable cat. We ride our bikes. We eat home cooked meals. My car may be old but it has an awesome sound system and Monday through Friday when I drive home from work, I can sing as loud as I want and no one cares.

I come home to these boys everyday. I love it.

To Hell and Back

It's been awhile since I have written and not because I have not wanted to but because life took over all of my free time. By life, I mean a tornado of sorts, a storm of Biblical proportions. The best way to sum things up is through a timeline and not like the one on Facebook but one that puts order to a somewhat chaotic life moment.

Late June: While most people were preparing for the upcoming July 4th holiday, I found myself unemployed on a Monday morning. No warning and nothing was open for discussion. I cleaned out my desk and went home. I cried as all the thoughts raced through my head about being unemployed. Would I lose my house? How would I pay for gas? What about my savings egg? Mom came over, dusted me off and I went out job hunting only to find myself employed two hours later. I returned to my roots from high school...RETAIL! I worked in a resale shop surrounded by designer labels, high end handbags, and customers that I shared coffee appointments with before. I didn't care. My first week at the job, I was paid $7.25 an hour. Two weeks later, I became an assistant manager earning $10.00 an hour. I hustled hours to get enough monies to pay my mortgage and barely touch my savings egg. Customers yelled at me. I worked every weekend. I worked at night. I did not care. It was a job.

Mid-July: I was continuing to work at the resale shop, eating peanutbutter often, not buying a single cup of coffee, or spending one dime unless the purchase was absolutely necessary. Only the bare essentials were paid for and my job was not covering those expenses. My bills were few...a mortgage, a condo association fee, utilities, and basic living necessities (food, gasoline, phone). I could run the household on less than $1,000 a month. However, I was working full time and barely making $800 a month. I also was uninsured. It was time to look for another job.

Mid-July through Early August: I set out on a massive job hunt. Each night after work, I sat at home working on my resume, searching for jobs, networking my friends, and within two weeks, I submitted my resume for 18-jobs. Some of the jobs I was not qualified for but I knew if I was given the chance, I would work for a company and learn what I needed to become successful. I utilized my graduate studies and crafted each resume to the job I was applying for. There was NO blanket approach. As I sent each resume off (some by mail, many online), I knew I would begin a waiting process and I did.

Early-mid August: Tick...tock...tick...tock. Time ticked away, the summer heat sweltered and I started to worry if my resumes were received. I searched the mailbox daily to look for the thin number 10 envelope with a rejection letter. I did not see those. I waited. I called to follow up only to leave numerous voice mails. It made working at the resale shop painful. I would sit and calculate what I was making by the hour and what bill it was going to. Then, my phone rang. Interviews. Yes!!! Honestly, I did not care what the job was as long as it was solid employment with benefits. I would do hard labor, pick up trash, walk dogs. I was interested in whatever I could lay my hands on. In all, I interviewed for the following positions:

1. Meals on Wheels Coordinator for City of Louisville
2. Starbucks Supervisor
3. Grocery Store Manager for Aldi's
4. Grants Administrator for City of Louisville
5. Social Service Director for at risk youth in Frankfort
6. 911 Dispatcher
7. 3 other non-profit positions

The remaining 8 jobs I applied for responded with:
1. 3 rejection emails saying they had chosen internal candidates
2. A can letter saying they chose other qualified candidates
3. 2 emails saying they were unable to fill the positions at this time and I would be considered at a later date
4. A recorded voice mail saying the position had been eliminated
5. A post card with my name misspelled saying they had chosen other candidates

I set out on interviews with my only off day, usually a Thursday or Friday. Within two weeks, I was offered the assistant manager position with a non-profit outlet (Habitat for Humanity's retail outlet). Again, more retail but also more money and benefits. I put in my notice at the resale shop. Although, the job was not a career for me, it was not an excuse to burn bridges or leave them in a bind and walk out the door. I left that job on Friday, September 16th and started at Habitat on Saturday, September 17th at 8:30AM. I was excited, hoping to get my career on track. Oddly, I have never minded retail or non-profits, so combining the two seemed great.

Mid-September- Mid November: Habitat is a fun and sincere organization to work for and in terms of retail, a low stress one. They do great things for the community. Other than late nights, I had few, if any, complaints. The pay was "okay" and required me to dip less into my savings, which is always a good thing. However, in August, I had a breast cancer scare as I located two lumps. I raced to the doctor (still uninsured) to learn they are benign but those 2 trips to the doctor tore into my savings kitty. It scared me as I realized I was still uninsured and I postponed follow-up appointments because I did not have the money to pay the office visits out of pocket. Working in retail paid the bills but it did not allow for savings and at any moment I lived in fear if I felt the lumps grow or if I caught a cold. I knew I would have to look for another job and I hated that part. I really wanted a career. There was not a career path at Habitat nor more money for a raise. Like many non-profits, they need the monies to serve their clients. I was not in the position to make the sacrifice to work there. I was upset to say the least. In the meantime, JC and I celebrated our anniversary with a budget cabin trip to Red River Gorge. We got a cabin half off for coming mid-week. It was a much needed reprieve.

No cell phone towers here!

Once home, I began looking for new careers on my days off and I found myself called back for second interviews for the city jobs. The interviews went well and I knew the pay ranges of the positions. I could do either job well. They did background checks on me. They had me meet their staff but then, communication fell silent. The holidays approached and I worked to save enough to have a feast. I, along with my parents who have been my biggest fans, decided that we would enjoy a feast for Thanksgiving no matter what the financial future was. I had hoped I would hear something about either job but all was silent.

Mid-November-early December: I heard nothing from the city and had been told by friends that this is not unusual. Both supervisors told me they would like to make an offer but they were waiting for final approval. So, I too, waited and during that time had an interview with a large metropolitan hospital. The interview went well. I was invited back for a second. That too, went well. I was hopeful. In the meantime, I acquired health benefits (yeah!!!) and because I had stayed inside a small budget, I was able to afford a few gifts for the holidays. In lieu of things, I baked cupcakes, pies, cakes, and cookies, sharing them with whomever. I had others submit orders for sugary treats which afforded JC and I a rare night out.

Me, working retail, enjoying a rare coffee!

Mom kept tradition, finding a cycling ornament for Christmas

Mid-December-New Year: I was called back for a final interview right before the New Year. It was an all day affair. I enjoyed it greatly. I felt that at any moment, I would hear from someone! New Year's felt good. I knew 2012 would not be a year of feeling bad for myself or being sad. I refused to allow it.

New Years with friends

You can imagine my extreme excitement when I did get an offer on a Friday afternoon just after New Years. I felt tears. I felt like doing backhand springs. I felt like hugging random strangers. Now, on the 30th, I start my new job with benefits and a clear provided career path. Does this mean, we go on a mad spending spree? Invest in a home in the Hamptons? No, instead, on a rare January warm day, JC proposed to me. I cried, he cried, my parents cried. While 2011 closed out as one of the worst years in my life, 2012 has opened new and improved doors that I have worked so hard to open. I spent a lot of time this fall upset. I could not race bikes, I could not ride bikes because I had to work harder than I ever have. I lost a dear friend to breast cancer in April and I still live in fear of amassing great amounts of bills or the thought they will want to do more tests. Of all the workouts I have endured, this has been the hardest, emotionally and physically.

JC and Melinda enjoying a rare day off

My new job will allow for my frugal savings again. My new job will allow for a small, quaint wedding. Throughout this rough patch in my life, I have been able to provide just enough for myself to survive. My parents are not in a position to help financially but they have been sounding boards for me and a place for a warm meal from time to time. That is worth its weight in gold.

What have I learned from all of this? More than my years of college taught me. Things do happen for a reason. You have to ask for help and no matter how bad it gets there are still things to make you smile and laugh. I am lucky to have a supportive fiance, friends, and family. I have also learned, people cannot survive making minimum wage or barely above. Businesses cannot thrive or expect employees to have loyalty if they are paying them so little. I have always been fiscally conservative but I am a believer that there MUST be change. People cannot have a future on $7.25 an hour. I should not have to work one hour to cover the cost of a dozen eggs ($2.50, currently), and a gallon of milk ($4.00). I was proud to own my own home without the help of anyone and I was not about to let this little bump in the road slow me down or turn me into someone bitter. All along the way, I have worked with some talented, caring people. Many, I hated to leave as there was a quality working chemistry. But in 2012, you need a career path, money for retirement and feel secure. I have had some amazing supervisors. The next chapter is ahead.

True Test...

The true test of any relationship is time spent together. So imagine spending an entire day tethered together on a bike doing one of the best known tour rides in the country. For some couples this may sound all together frightening or quite frankly, stupid. We decided to not label it until it was over.

The Hilly Hundred is known all over the country as one of the most challenging tour rides. The name says it all and no further creative marketing needs to be done. The ride swerves through scenic central Indiana country side with challenging hills and crazy descents. All of those details set aside, it is just another ride around town. Right? (Maybe not). Our ride would be on a tadem...a two rider bicycle. As the rear rider (also known as the stoker), I would not have any sight to see forward, no brakes and no gearing. It is not just another ride. The captain has to do a majority of the work and I have to trust the captain.

The tandem itself has been nothing but pure agony for me most of this year. Originally conceived and designed as a gift for someone other than myself, I never IMAGINED myself riding it. The thought never crossed my mind, not once. The bike was NEVER designed or built for me. When the gift was not wanted anymore and returned, I still refused to ride the bike believing that the bike was not for me and I should not ride it. At heart though, it is a bike and bikes are meant to be ridden, otherwise they collect dust. Quality bikes are meant to be ridden without drama. This tandem is designed and built for a specific size person. I said once..."I wanna try it all in cycling" and I decided the tandem had been collecting enough dust. It was time to ride and our first foray into tandem riding would be Hilly Hundred.

Tandem Timeline:

Friday Morning 7AM: We are up with the car packed and we are driving north to Bloomington, Indiana. The sunrise is just starting to peak over the tree ridge. I am still sipping a huge cup of coffee as my system is suffering from a lack of sleep. Perhaps it was my nerves or the many chores that needed to be done before we left  but I could not sleep much the night before.

8:45AM: We arrive to the Hilly Hundred vendors tent where we will work between riding. Don made us a deal to cover our registration if we work the tent. It sounded quite fair. At this time, I have still not seen, nor sat on the tandem.

9:15AM: Don Walker arrives with his trailer in tow. We unload the trailer, set up for the show where the tandem is now sitting, waiting for us to ride it.

JC and Don at the vendors tent

9:45AM: JC works on the tandem so it will "fit" me better. This required quite a few adjustments, tweaks and cranks of a wrench. We decide to do two loops around a parking lot totaling .25 miles. We did not incur any damages and we consider this a good sign of things to come. We dismount and work the tent the REST of the afternoon and evening. We escape to Upland Brewery for a delicious lunch and...BACON ICE CREAM. (I seriously forgot all about the approaching ride while consuming this ice cream).

Bacon ice cream...dissolves any nerves

SATURDAY MORNING 

4AM: I awake in an odd panic, not sure where I am, surrounded by darkness. A few moments elapse and I finally realize I am in Bloomington, Indiana, in a trailer, sleeping on plywood in a sleeping bag with a cold breeze blowing through the door. Somewhat panicked and otherwise calm, I attempt to go back to sleep.

6:30AM: We awake to wind hitting the trailer, rattling the roof overhead. It is really cold outside. I ask about the descents before either of us is unraveled from our sleeping bags. I am assured we will "take it easy." Hmmm. I have doubts about this but press on.

7:30AM: I am now in full ride preparation mode. I am up, working to assemble the vendors tent and making mental notes of all the little things I will need on the ride. Other riders start to arrive. A stream of headlights comes over the hill looking like little white ants.

Sunrise on Saturday morning...

8:45AM: I am preparing to ride. I have applied sunscreen to the face, pulled back the hair and laid out my kit in the order I will put it on. Each piece goes on as I dress in a dark wooden trailer. It is cold outside. Even with a base layer, sports bra, bibs, jersey, AND jacket, I am cold. By cold, I mean my teeth are chattering. My fingers are numb. The temperature outside is 45 degrees. I am told it will warm up. I believe this.

9:30AM: JC is now finishing getting ready. Water bottles are filled. I adjust my jersey with needed items and extras like a camera. I speak to Don and remind him to remind JC that I have NEVER been on this bike before. I do not KNOW what I am doing. I do not want to crash.

10:00 AM: We are on the bike. Don snaps a quick photo before we take off. We push off in unison. We pedal in unison (you do not have a choice on the tandem). My view is JC's butt in front of me. This view does not change for the next 57-miles. It is freezing outside. My teeth are chattering and my fingers are already cold.

The before picture...

11:00AM: We are IN the ride now, and have completed a few small hills. I am on alert for any moment that could cause a fall or wreck but I am NOT in control. No matter what I do, I am not steering this bike. I cannot brake. I cannot shift gears. My ONLY job is to be a little motor in the back. I have carefully reminded JC that if he has a temper even once, any mild flare up, I will dismount the bike, flag down a SAG vehicle and ride back. My pride will not know the difference. He tells me he will not be dangerous and I have to trust him. I am clipped into this bike. IF I decide to bail, it will still cause harm because I will have to roll OFF the bike. There are hundreds of people around us, some of them riding quite dangerously ignorning any cycling rules. We see two serious wrecks and hear a helepad landing for someone injured. It scatters our nerves a bit and we are still freezing from the cold winds. Brrrr.

JC's butt...my view for most of the ride

Shortly before NOON: We arrive at lunch. Over a thousand people are crowded on a lawn. We feel good and find some space to take some sun in. We're still freezing! We have been standing for the hills at this point which literally causes people to gasp but it helps us motor up the hills with ease. We come over hills with little or no effort including a larger one that many people walk. I help myself to a tiny lunch of carrots, celery and a cookie. The lunch was scheduled to be fried chicken which I do not eat. JC eats a piece and it looks horrible as the soggy grease coats his fingers. We get back on the bike with our legs starting to tire bit. The scenery though really opens up and it is a pretty but cold day to ride.

Scenery along the way

1PM: Our legs are really tiring, the hills are getting harder. Now, JC is having leg cramps while I am starting to have arm cramps in my left bicep and tricep to the point that standing is nearly impossible because I may collapse. Hmmm. We summit a steep hill and JC gets off the bike to stretch his legs. Other tandems pass us BUT they have much better gearing. We do not have a "granny" gear and it is showing. We make the decision to limp along to the last SAG after a small discussion of quitting.

2PM: We are literally limping along. At any ascent we slow to a crawl nursing our sore muscles at every summit. I am thinking of muscle tearing, tendon issues, etc. JC cramps so bad at point, he jumps off the bike with me still clipped in. WHOOPPPS! I grab his shoulder and unclip as quickly as possible to hold the bike up. No wrecks today!

2:30PM: We roll into the last SAG, collapsing on the grass. We're still cold. We have both discussed but made the decision to NOT get a ride back to the end of the course. We are now only a short distance away from the end. We run into a friend who shares some cookies with us. They taste like the best cookies ever and JC scarfs them down. I text ahead to the end and tell Don "WE NEED MEAT." The lactic acid build up in our legs is to the point where you can nearly see it. Our legs are tight. Spinning feels good. Our friend Scott, an accomplished strong rider, agrees to stay with us until the end. We start to feel a little more energy.

The last crowded SAG

The best cookies EVER!

3:15PM: We depart the last SAG and immediately start into one of the last hardest hills. Uh oh. We ascend it seated. We sit, spin and rhythmically pull ourselves up. We realize that in a seated position we can climb but at a snails pace. We stopped caring about our time a long time ago. It is still freezing as gusting winds hit us from all sides. BRRRRR.

3:30PM: We are rolling to the end and I can hear people talking about the last few miles ahead. I get more excited but I realize that my sits bones are bruised. Every crack, bump, or pothole in the road make it feel like broken glass. I avoid any bouncing. My legs refresh a bit. My arm still cramps with any applied pressure but I do not need it anymore. JC and I can now see the water tower which is a part of the view from the school where we started. We are ALMOST done. Our friend scoots us up the hill pulling us in his draft and we turn to finish out the last few miles.

4:00PM: The end of the ride is officially near. We roll through a neighborhood of small quaint houses and cars. I stop caring about the landscape, the views or anything else and we turn onto the last road into the school. Other riders have collapsed on the road sitting on the grass to our sides. We do not even pause, we head on straight to the bathrooms. It is my first time off the bike in a while. We get on the bike one last time and roll into the vendors tent where we first pushed off. JC's legs are cooked. My legs are seared. We are done. We are STILL cold. I immediately prepare to layer up.

4:20PM: We collapse for a brief moment onto our sleeping bags giggling because we just finished over 57-miles on a bike we had not ridden more than a few feet. Now, it's funny. We laugh at our own stupidity.

Afterwards everyone asks us about the ride and how we got along. We never fought. We made decisions together. We laughed a lot on the ride mostly at other riders in costume or doing things really odd. If I were in pain, I told him. If he was in pain, he told me. We spoke in grunts at times. There was nothing we could do to directly comfort each other but we made it known when something wasn't working. We made the decision to walk some hills. We stopped and drank water when we needed. We finished over the time we thought we would but we did not regret the ride. We regretted our miscalculated gearing and not packing our own lunches. To make up for a lackluster lunch, we ate a whole pizza in minutes and several ice cream treats. Honestly, there were not enough calories in sight. After a hot shower and a few moments of resting, the best reward....11-hours of perfect uninterrupted sleep.

When in doubt, bake.

As soon as Labor Day settles, I would normally be preparing for cross racing season. I would normally be choosing my dates for races, registering myself, and preparing meals around recovery and preparation. This is not been a normal year though. Since losing my job on June 26, I have been thrust into a new type of living...called, "getting by" and moving to the next chapter. I would have it no other way.

Not for a minute do I miss my non-profit, corporate feeling job. Not for a second do I miss the long hours, countless parties, formal wear, handshaking, faux snobbery, that was my job. I do not miss the frantic people that were my coworkers who literally ran around the office as if it may not continue standing unless they completed their mindless tasks. In fact, the only thing I do miss is the mild flexibility of knowing I would have weekends off or knowing IF I needed I could rearrange my schedule to fit my needs. Those are honestly, the only aspects I miss.

While my schedule fluctuates in a retail environment and quite often I work well over 40 hours a week, I enjoy the calmness of not having a chaotic environment around me frought with people trying harder than ever to get to the next rung on the ladder. As I see it, I am happy on the step ladder and refuse to climb any other ladders upward. In my mid-twenties, my goal was to lead a non-profit in my hometown but that goal has shifted, since most leaders I know are burned out, ran down, and focused on making a board of directors happy versus making a real difference in the community. The only real reward I ever see them enjoy are the rare moments when someone praises their job well done. Many of them do not vacation, take care of their family lives, or have friends night out. They are reaching for an imaginary goal.

With my relaxed, less chaotic time, what do I do? I bake. The kitchen is my second home. I move about from ingredient to ingredient often ignoring any written recipe and crafting my own concoction. As soon as Labor Day faded, I could feel the twinges of fall settling in and I began to bake....cookies, cakes, pies, and the staples of any fall, loaves of bread. My house is often filled with the scents of cinnamon, vanilla, caramel, or coffee. My small oven produces four homemade loaves of bread an hour or 48 cupcakes depending on the pans used. Once upon a time not so long ago, I was racing home to fix a quick dinner which generally involved something handed through a window because I did not have the time to cook a full meal. Now, dinners are thought about early in the day and we can enjoy pulled pork empanada night, taco fiesta night, or even fish sticks when we feel childlike. There is no rush to anything.

My goals may shift again, but I am certain that I will not do a job unless there is some personal reward from it. If I cannot go into work and feel I can accomplish my job, then I will not do it. Bike riding is still my passion but I can even enjoy it more now. Rides are not scheduled to a science but done in windows of free time. Rides are fun now...I am not always thinking about work.

Yes, there is a sacrifice in pay but overall, my quality of life has improve 150%. I am accutely aware of the things I need versus the things I want. This lesson is priceless. My boyfriend is enjoying the rewards with each loaf of bread or cupcake cranked out.

And....we're clear.

Last week was nothing short of a huge roller coaster ride. My emotions were up, then down as I waited for Thursday morning and my first ever mammogram. Thankfully, I am in the clear, for now. One not-so-uncomfortable mammogram and ultra sound later...the conclusion is fibroid cysts. Doctors have no explanation for them but he is certain they are benign. These are the words I needed to hear. Of course, I am required to monitor my cysts for any changes but overall, I walked out feeling much better than when I had awaken that morning.

From that odd moment on...the week picked up even with only a couple of days left. Mom and I celebrated fibroid tumors at a small diner in town (Jerry's) where my grandfather had spent many of his mornings. It brought back many memories to the point where both mom and I teared up remembering the counter where pa-pa had enjoyed coffee with other retired truckers. Over a stack of carb loaded pancakes and warmed colored water they called coffee, we celebrated these small lumps and took turns naming them while exchanging stories about pa-pa.

This weeks begins the final chapter of an official summer. This summer was not what I planned or expected. I planned on bike rides, training, and enjoying a rhythm of life that was constant. Instead, there is no rhythm, life right now is more like a mosh pit. I am trying not to get hit in the face as I push through the crowd. Even in the down moments, there have been fun nights with friends, cocktails with girlfriends and the memories of past summers. The walking path right outside our front door is now complete and every evening, JC and I walk the dog through the new trees marveling at the deer and how they have grown over the past few months.

Deer family we see every night while walking the dog...

I have always heard it is about the little things in life but after this summer, I can truly believe it. Each piece of summer has a bit of enjoyment to it. The small bowls of ice cream with fresh fruit, cooking with home grown herbs, hugging a long time friend, watching deer grow their first set of antlers. I look forward to these things each night. At the beginning of summer, I was concerned about moving, getting the house together and now, I know it will happen if it is meant to happen. I still have bike rides to look forward to although they may not be on a schedule. Hours are hours...and I plan to use them all just not in a specific order.

When life hands you lemons...

I had just finished a bike ride, which in the summer means I am encrusted in salty sweat, my hair is a heap of matted mess, and I need a shower. Peeling my kit off, I headed for the shower and just about the time I was ready to wash another 30-miles away, I felt something. I felt again...that was not there before. What is that?! I felt again. I asked my boyfriend to feel it. Hmm.

Breast exams are critical and although I can rarely find anything off the table in life to joke about...I am serious about breast exams (I'll joke about them too!). Breast cancer is no joke and when I found a small lump, I immediately began a course of action which included calling the doctor at 8:02AM the next morning, calling my mom and doing research on the web.

My family physician has been my doctor since I was eleven years old. He is patient with everyone, direct, and knows my history. His wife is a 19-year breast cancer survivor. When he entered the examining room, he was more somber than normal. He found a few other lumps but was not immediately concerned.

His best diagnosis was to have a mammogram and ultrasound which I have penciled into my datebook for next week. I chuckled when the receptionist asked if I had breast implants. The mere thought made me giggle out loud and I assured her I could barely fill out a B cup, let alone withstand implants. My doctor feels everything is benign but he wants to be sure. I would prefer he be sure. 

Did I also mentioned I am uninsured? When you change jobs suddenly, you become uninsured. If one more person suggests COBRA to me, I may roll up the enrollment packet they were obligated to send me and beat someone with it. The monthly costs for COBRA were approximately $379 per month. When your income is significantly reduced, COBRA is not an option but more like a decorative coaster on my coffee table that is covered in coffee stains.

Uninsured, facing a mammogram, ultra sound and constantly fondling myself in my spare time, I have found some lemonade in my life, no less from the Federal Government. The government has a program to refinance interest rates for homeowners should they become underemployed. I completed the 60-page intake forms, had them copied, notarized, and met with my HUD agent today. She was so pleasant. We chuckled at the maze she had to navigate on the homepage of the program. Always an overachiever, I walked in with all of my papers signed and prepared in blue ink. She noted my attention to details. 

Yet, still in the office as she ran back and forth to the copier to grab the series of papers, I would feel my lump. I have never been so vigilant about something on my body. It feels very foreign because it is. Mom insisted after the HUD appointment, that we have lunch. We saddled up to a greasy local pub whose specialty ranges from chili to an amazing grilled cheese. Mom further suggested a beer, implying I deserved it. She was paying...I was drinking. I enjoyed it...with a perfectly toasted grilled cheese, extra dill pickles and seasoned salt on my crinkle cut fries. Again from time to time at lunch, I would feel my uninvited guest nestled just below my skin with my salty fingers. 

Mom had water, I had "flavored" water

Benign or not benign, the fear alone is something that stops you cold. I am constantly surrounded by breast cancer ribbons and various pink breast "cancery" things. Oh the irony of me hating pink is funn right now. I did not like pink when I was two...I do not like pink now. 

Even if benign, surgery may be needed to remove this parasite. Did I mention I was uninsured? Oh...I did. Surgeries are not free but I will cross that bridge when I get to it. Right now, I deal with one task at a time and enjoy everything that has nothing to do with this lump including a girls night out, walks with the dog, new haircuts, house warming presents for friends in New York, bike rides, and looking forward to my boyfriend being home at night. 

New hair

As the phrase goes, when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. Do you know anyone who likes natural lemonade? Me either. Lemonade is good only when amazing delicious sweet sugar is added. I prefer to make a simple syrup when making homemade lemonade (remember, I am an over achiever). So I say when life hands you lemons, hand them back and go buy some lemonade. Homemade lemonade takes forever and a full pitcher takes a lot of lemons. I deal with things one by one right now. One lemon at a time.

Enjoying lemon meringue cake with the cat and dog...

  

You can learn a lot from a fat cat...

Meet Victor. He is the most ordinary 20lb house cat you will ever meet. He eats, sleeps, stares out the window and generally has a dull existence. Since arriving shortly before Thanksgiving four years ago, Victor has been the main cat of the house. He does nothing too extraordinary, except everything. What I have realized in these few weeks of stress, life change, and general circumstance is Victor knows what's right in the world. Meditation, yoga, hours of bike rides, friend phone calls, and long emails taught me nothing about life. Victor has.

1. Victor really does smell the flowers. By this, I mean, nothing gets by Victor. Whether its a bag of groceries, flowers, new clothes, or wet bike clothes, Victor notices everything. He approaches each new thing with care...giving a slight sniff as if scanning it into inventory. Nothing disturbs Victor. Loud noise, crumpling plastic bags, and even a large barking dog do not bother him. Each new item seems to be accepted into his world no matter what it is.

2. Victor is not afraid to be vulnerable. At some point during the evening usually while we are catching up on our trashy reality TV for the day, Victor will come into the living room and roll onto his back. Note this is his most vulnerable position and yet, every night he does this, stretching and lulling himself to sleep with only his paws twitching in a dream like state. He does not mind if I steal a rub of his super soft fur. He is content upside down, quite content and he isn't afraid to show it.

3. Victor is a leader. Victor ignores all species boundaries and prefers to be inclusive. You can imagine how confusing this is for an 80lb golden retriever with chronic anxiety. Victor never fails to include Buddy in his daily relaxation. Often Buddy is tense and nervous but Victor is always there to set an example of peace and tranquility regardless of supposed IQ differences. In fact, Victor hates to quantify any being. Numbers are for humans.

4. Victor smiles. If you know other cat owners, it is likely they have told you stories of a hissing, clawing meowing beast called a cat. In the time I have had Victor, he has never hissed, growled, or clawed at me. On any given vet visit, even with a thermometer applied to his rectum, Victor has never been aggressive.  Instead from time to time, he will fall asleep in my lap, purring loudly and grow a small smile on his face. Perhaps it is nothing more than relaxed feline muscles but I like to imagine that he is so content, he smiles.

5. Victor cares. When I brought Victor home, he took to a small beenie stuffed bunny. At first, I thought it was him needing a cat toy. I raced to the store, purchased other cat toys only to find Victor carrying "baby" around. Years later, because of my care and sewing skills, "baby" is still toted around at least 2-3 times a day. Victor carries him like a kitten around the house, dropping him off at the water bowl, food dish, and near the shower at times. Victor bathes "baby" and he is generally easily spotted in the house. This activity caused me to ask the vet who explained some male cats have female actions. Victor is being nurturing despite the fact he has no obvious way of producing kittens. It is a scene that will cause laughter and giggling watching him toddle about the house with this small creature in his grasp. He cares for "baby" and there is NO substitute. I was thankful to see the beanies fall out of favor of collectors because I was able to score a replacement at an antique mall for a dollar one morning. I keep it stored for the day that "baby" must be replaced.

When I adopted Victor, like many people, I thought I was adopting a pet but there are times when I swear Victor is trying to talk to me. He has expressions on his face and far beyond our daily routine of being fed and being cared for like a king, Victor is more than a cat. When I walk in the door, his almond shaped eyes greet me and he runs to me, often competing to beat the dog. He wins every time. In fact, I'm pretty sure it is he who adopted me. I was just there to write a check and drive a cat carrier home.