Worthy. MS is one of the remaining diseases with no known cure!

Smile!

Click today for breast cancer research!

Also, this may sound so strange to be diagnosed with breast cancer and then ask people I know to donate to MS. MS is one of the remaining diseases without a known cure. Thanks to the enormous amounts of money poured into breast cancer research it is one of the most curable diseases. I will recover and go on to be 92 (the palm reader promised!) Yet thousands of people with MS will not.

My dearest friend is riding his bike 150 miles at the end of June to raise money for MS. Because I am not sure where I will be in my own treatment I will not be able to join him for the riding, but I will be there in spirit and certainly for the after party! If you can find a way to donate to this cause, even $5 that would be so great. To donate online click here.

Thanks!

The Truth is...I'm Scared.

My hair reaches my bra strap. This is a female landmark for hair length. Before the 4th of July I could be bald. I have a good head. It can't be that bad. Besides it will be summer and hot and a bald head might be nice.

Truth is, I'm scared. Not to loose my bra-strap length hair. I'm scared to throw up, to be tired, not to be as good as I once was. Scars. I'm healthy. I eat OK. I exercise A LOT. I only drink beer three times a week. I go to Shabbat (Jewish church).

I love my friends. I have great friends, the kind you meet once in a lifetime that will bring you food because you hate to cook and buy you cute hats because you have no hair. Friends that sit two hours in waiting rooms at the hospital because you forgot to line up your ducks before a biopsy.

I have cancer. The "c" word. A word that makes you cry and call your boyfriend really late at night just to make sure you're going to be OK. I'm 38. This can't be happening to me--I cry, but it is. My tree branched and my life went down the 20% branch -- the 20% of the women with a boob bump that actually is breast cancer.

I'm scared now. I cry. I know I will be OK.

Thank you.

A tree with many branches

I find two of the most important things to remember when faced with adversity is that trees have many branches and squirrels must collect tons of acorns just to make it through the winter.

If a squirrel can carry enough acorns, one at a time, back to it's nest to survive a Montana winter, I can too. OK, it's a White Stripes song, but it helped me through my Montana experience and ultimately brought me to Colorado where my home has been waiting for me.

Now the tree. After my mammogram and ultrasound my dear friend Bobbe described my situation as a tree. With each exam and radiograph my lump takes a new branch. While a cyst (the best case scenario) has been completely ruled out, I still have two branches left on my tree -- cancer and not cancer. And after I know which of those two branches my life will follow, I will have more branches to choose.

You see, a tree continues to grow and split into branches as it grows. With every branch in every life situation there are always new branches, new choices, and new directions.

I do happen to have one sexy tree I came across in Kentucky with super huge sturdy branches -- sturdy enough for Sam to climb.

So here's my tree. My cup is half full. I have the very best friends a girl could ever have. And I have a good feeling.

Get Your Breast Exam! Now!

I have great boobs. I cannot tell a lie. For 38, they’re perky and perfect. They make the young boys wild.

So here’s my story. Last week a wonderfully charming 50-something nurse practitioner felt me up. Found a lump. Not just any lump. That sucker is 5 cm by 6 cm (2-inches!). My perkiness is just a handful – 2 inches is half that handful.

Here’s the lesson – gals examine yourself! How did something half the size of my bodacious bod get there without me knowing? So if you don’t want to do it, ask your man or woman to do it for you. The Internet provides great resources, click here for a self-examination guide or do a search. My advice is to also palpate towards your chest. My lump is in the plane of my chest as if I had no boobs at all. It is directly behind the nipple and cannot be felt at all unless my arm is above my head AND I am lying down.


And now for the kudos! Susan G. Komen. Just a week ago ago I was told to go in for complete diagnostic testing. And already I qualified for funding provided through the Susan G. Komen Foundation for such testing. For more information about the Komen Foundation click here. There are other valuable resources, information, and organizations for this cause.

And for those that want, in the words of Paul Harvey, the rest of the story…I will upload the results over the few weeks as the tests are completed and evaluated. If you have any questions, email or call me.

I will be marvelous! And anyway, pink is one of my favorite colors!

Many, many thanks to Bobbe. You are so special the world is a better place with you it.

I Never Thought of Myself as a Hick

So there I was talking to a man with a pistol his sack. After Harley, his well-behaved Australian Shepherd puppy ran my old man Sam, moderately well-behaved Australian Shepherd, around for awhile, she curled up next to her owner and burrowed in for a nap. Dirt flew about as she dug her den and into her owners nap sack it landed. And then I saw the pistol.

"For lion's," he said. He'd never shoot to kill, just wanted to scare them if they came for Harley.

In panic I thought of old man Sam. I thought he was supposed to rescue me, but what if I am supposed to rescue him?

And where was I headed? I was off to explore the mountain leading to the "Lion's Den" bouldering area. A name by any other name is still as fair? or something Shakespearean like that, right?

With caution to the wind I headed uphill to the den. I had to climb, despite the endless mind-chatter. I concluded, while talking to myself and answering every question with just as much thought, that I would wrestle the lion...and then I saw it...

Not the lion, silly, the boulder. I could not resist. Dancing shoes donned, Sam at rest, I was up one, then another, and another.

Of course no lion. And do you really think a lion would go after a dog like this anyway?

Damsel in Distress

OK, I admit it, sometimes I play the helpless female card. Today was such a day. In true female fashion I even showed some leg. I can't help it. I just don't want to replace the headlight on my Subaru. I want someone else to do it for me.

So it's safe to say that wasn't the case Saturday as I was shopping the Habitat ReStore for discounted kitchen cabinets and sheet rock. I need the sheet rock so I can hang it, mud, tape, sand, paint, and install my kitchen cabinets. I'm ready for my kitchen to be done. I'm ready to plug in and use my all-pink mini appliances with matching pink utensils. Once I'm done, I'll even bake a cake for my glass cake holder and cover it in pink frosting with big yellow and pink flowers.

It's OK to be girlie and I think it's OK to show some leg. I mean, really, do you want to replace a headlight in your car?

To Bozeman

In my life I have been extraordinarily lucky -- I've escaped several earthquakes in California, avalanches in the Sierra's, rock falls, and various other catastrophes. Recently I moved from Bozeman, Montanan to the Front Range in Colorado. In the news Bozeman was "rocked" by a gas-line explosion on Main Street. The site is just 4 blocks from the house I sold in August. Four buildings were destroyed, including what had been two wonderful places to meet friends for an after work cocktail.

I struggle to wrap around the idea of so much devastation. With the economy many businesses have moved out of Bozeman's downtown area. Now this. Am I lucky to have sold my house when I did? Or unlucky that I will not be part of rebuilding the Bozeman community?

As I facilitate from my Colorado home to arrange for electric heat for my tenants and safety for the houses I manage in Bozeman, my heart goes out to the community that treated me so well for so many years.

For my Bozeman readers, best wishes and keep strong in these struggling times.