What now?

Not a Rant, Not a Rave, Not Even a Cancer Lesson — This Is a Cancer Question.

Today I had my yearly checkup with my OB/GYN, which means it was about this time in 2011 that  my whole cancer trip began. I thought it might even be the same date, so I asked Dr. K to check my records. He told me it was a year ago yesterday.

So, here’s the question. If it supposedly takes a year to get your life back after cancer, when does that year begin?

Was yesterday my “anniversary?”
Or March 18, when I was diagnosed?
Maybe April 27, the day of my surgery?
Or the end of August, after chemo ended?

It’s probably the last, I think. Truthfully, though, I know that innocent belief in my own infallibility will never return.

Cancer is now a part of my history. That makes it a part of my future, whether or not it ever recurs. It will always exist as another possible side trip. And I am responsible for catching it if it does.

Still, life shouldn’t be defined by a disease. Though this experience will always be a part of my past, it is not the whole of me. And while it’s true I look forward to having a choice in the length of my hair, and to not being so tired after a long day, I am also grateful just to be here.

Living after cancer — it’s a whole new journey.

Crocuses in Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park

Image via Wikipedia

 

This photo is from Tower Hamlets Cemetary Park in one of the worst neighborhoods in London.

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson 


 

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Vampires and Werewolves and Preternaturals, Oh My!

Rave about Reading
Let’s see, how can I say this nicely?
Hmm …  I don’t think I can, so I’ll just come right out and tell you that I dislike  hate — no, that’s not strong enough — abhor, loathe, detest, despise(!) paranormal fiction.

I’m not interested in werewolves or vampires, and no, I didn’t even read Twilight.
Vampires leave me cold. Werewolves make me howl. And as far as I’m concerned, demons can all go to hell.

I don’t read paranormal.

I’ll say it louder: I DON’T READ PARANORMAL!

At least, I didn’t. Until quite recently (like this week), I had read exactly one book that might be considered — okay, is — paranormal. My friend Linda Robertson writes an urban fantasy series, and I read one of hers.

To my surprise, I enjoyed Hallowed Circle, not because of its other-worldly creatures, but despite them. Linda’s writing is entertaining and witty, well worth the $7.99 or so one of her books costs. Still, I had no intention of repeating the experience any time soon, not even for her. (Sorry, Linda.)

So, you can imagine my surprise when I got hooked into Soulless by Gail Carriger.

You see, I recently started a new position at my library that requires me to be cognizant of a variety of genres. Though there’s no rule that says I need to read them all, I find I want to. Hence, the Soulless experiment.

To my shock, I loved this book. I started listening to it on audio, and fell into the story immediately. Then, when my CD player refused to play the (brand new, unmarred — grr!) disc, I went out and bought the book instead of waiting for another copy of the audiobook.

I’m a sucker for quirky characters, and Carriger’s book has them in abundance. Like Linda, her writing is so clever I was able to ignore the fact that many of the best characters were vampires and werewolves.

So, will I become a paranormal or, to be more exact, an urban fantasy fan? Probably not. But, reading Carriger’s and Linda’ books reminded me that good writing transcends categorization. I need to quit judging a book by its genre.

Having written the above, I realize that once again I’ve lied to you. I also read all of Kevin Hearne’s Iron Druid series and am eagerly waiting the next installment. I began the series because it’s full of mythological references but to be honest, I kept going because Hearne’s writing is just so darned funny.

Maybe I’m becoming an urban fantasy fan after all.

 

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Be the Change

Rave: Last week, I went to hear Regina Brett speak at my local library. For those of you who don’t live in northeastern Ohio, Brett is a columnist for the Plain Dealer and author of two books, God Never Blinks and Be the Miracle.

I’m not big on so-called inspirational writing, but her take on life makes a lot of sense. “Be the miracle,” she says, pointing out that not all miracles are huge and world-changing. Instead, many are small, yet life-changing, which is good news because, let’s face it, few of us are in a position to perform the momentous deeds normally associated with miraculous happenings.

Think about it. Those who have wrought the greatest changes in your life probably did so without even realizing the effect they were having, yet they were a miracle to you.

I believe Brett when she says we all can be miracles.

Mahatma Ghandi put it another way: “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.”

In other words, if something bothers you, quit bitching about it and do something — whatever you can from wherever you are.  If you think living in the 21st century has become an exercise in dealing with disrespect and bad manners, be the exception by treating everyone you meet with courtesy. Annoyed by what you view as a lack of common sense in others’ actions? Live your life in a calm and reasonable manner.

Who knows? Your small actions may affect others in ways you never imagined. You might even inspire others to follow your example, and, as another wise woman, anthropologist Margaret Mead once said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

If I have a philosophy of life, that’s probably it, to do the best I can from where I’m at to effect change where I believe it’s needed. Change happens one person at a time, and the only person we can truly change is ourself.

 Be the change.
Be the miracle.

Miracle Worker

Image via Wikipedia

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There’s a Reason I Don’t Write Historical Romance

Writing: The other day I caught a few seconds of an interview on NPR about anachronisms in the recent PBS import of the BBC‘s Downton Abbey. (You can watch a clip of the examples here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RzY4ieghO0w or read dictionary editor Ben Zimmer’s article on the subject by clicking here: http://www.visualthesaurus.com/cm/wordroutes/3133/.)

Downton Abbey visits Seattle

Downton Abbey visits Seattle (Photo credit: KCTS 9)

A light went off in my head. Aha! I thought, That’s why I don’t write historical romance.

I lie. Actually, it was more like  Aha! That would be a good blog topic. I already knew why I don’t write historical romance. It’s because if I tried to write a book set in a different time period, someone who knows a whole lot more than I do would read my novel and point out every glaring inaccuracy. They’d probably be really nasty about it too.

The Downton Abbey article and interview weren’t nasty. In fact, quite the opposite, they provide an enlightening look at the etymology of some common phrases of the English language. It turns out that many of the show’s inaccuracies stem from differences in when these phrases were introduced in America and England. Kind of reminds me of George Bernard Shaw’s famous quip about England and America being two countries separated by a common language.

Do these observations take away from the program? I don’t think so. But plenty of authors will tell you that reviewers are not always so kind. So, until I’m ready to devote a great deal of time to researching a time period, I think I’ll stick to contemporary romance.

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Was thinking about doing a post for Valentine’s Day but I don’t think I can top this one. So, here’s a repeat from last year. Enjoy! And don’t forget your cup of tea. Or glass of wine. Or beer, chocolate — whatever works for you.

kymlucas's avatarReading, Writing, Ranting and Raving

Definitely a Rave

If you’re one of the 157,000 women (give or take a few thousand) who received roses today, stop reading.

Ditto for the chocolate and jewelry.

I mean it. Close the window on your browser and find something else to do.  This post is for the rest of us.

Are they gone? Good. Here’s a graphic, just to capture the mood.

(Go on over to http://www.meish.org/vd/ if you’d like to see some more).

Blame it on the fairy tales. You know, the ones that taught us that Prince Charming would come along and make us happy?

Poor guy. No one ever thought about what made him happy. If he’s anything like my prince, happiness definitely doesn’t come wrapped in a heart-shaped box of chocolate. Or any other box, for that matter.

Which can be a problem. You see, I’m a middle child — the one couldn’t be the…

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Happy Birthday to Me!

Celebrating two things today! Having posted blog #200 yesterday and my birthday today, which is really just another excuse to play “Trip Around the Sun” again. So, here it is!

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Twelve Things Most Men Will Never Need to Worry About

English: toilet seat up Deutsch: hochgeklappte...

Image via Wikipedia

A Rant and a Rave — Oh, heck, let’s just call this an observation.

The other night I was baking bread, and when I opened the oven to get out the loaf, I could feel my mascara melt.This isn’t a big deal — it happens all the time with no permanent damage — but for some reason this time I thought, “You know, D. (my husband) never has to worry about this.”

This made me think about all the other things women deal with that D. — and most men — will never have to worry their pretty heads about.

Now before my male readers get all “het up,” as my West Virginia born dad used to say, let me say I know full well that there are some unpleasant things men experience on a regular basis that I have never considered.  In the name of better understanding,  I hope you’ll share those by leaving a comment. Alternatively, if you feel I missed something, feel free to leave your thoughts too.

So here they are, in no particular order, twelve things most men will never need to worry about.

1. The odd feeling when you open the door to a hot oven and feel your mascara melt, clumping your lashes together.
2. Getting pregnant.
3. The splash-filled joy of using the toilet in the middle of the night and discovering someone left the seat up.
4. Being required to wear a veil in a fundamentalist Muslim country.
5. Getting pregnant.
6. Worrying about whether or not you have lipstick on your teeth.
7. Getting pregnant. Though I realize giving birth is a blessing, it’s also a worry — such a big one in fact, that it deserves more than the three places I’ve given it.
8. Hot flashes. In fact, all of menopause.
9. Morning sickness, labor, and all the other lovely side effects of pregnancy – not to mention the after-effects. I won’t go into detail. Trust me, you really don’t want to know.  And yes, this gets a separate mention.
8. Whether or not to breastfeed.
9.The two invasive (but necessary – oh so necessary) procedures known as the Pap smear and the mammogram.
10. Rape.

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Well, Really!

A Rant About Writing
I have a real problem with the word “really,” in all its forms. You see, I really have this tendency to use that particular word, even when it’s not really needed. Now, you may think this is really a minor problem, but I’ve come to the conclusion that it really isn’t. Because really overusing a word, especially one that’s not really necessary, can really weaken a sentence. Which, in turn, really weakens the paragraph, the page, the chapter — hell, it really weakens the whole book.
If you’re a writer, I’m sure you really understand my dilemma. I’m sure you also have a word that you really catch yourself using more than you really need.

Please tell me I’m right.
Really.

 

REALLY?

REALLY? (Photo credit: the|G|™)

 
 

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December 31, 2011: An End-ventory

Rave: December 31, 2011: An End-ventory

Around this time last year, I wrote a post called “Time is the Essence.” When I re-read it recently, I was startled to see how much it was about death.

And that was three months before my cancer diagnosis.

This year, I’m concentrating on life.

This is my 2011 End-ventory: I’m here to write this post, and you’re here to read it.

I was going to write a whole lot more, but really anything else is gravy.

Hot Fudge Sundae

Image by sanctumsolitude via Flickr

Make that the hot fudge on the sundae. I hate gravy.

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Christmas Note #24: Things Aren’t Always What They Seem

Rave: Christmas Note #24: Things aren’t always what they seem.
Well, this year’s countdown to Christmas is almost over so today I’m sharing this video, entitled “The Long Wait.” I got it from my friend Carmen, who posted it on her blog (http://britishtelly.wordpress.com/). I’m not sure how she managed to embed it in her post but maybe I’ll ask her. For now, you’ll need to click through.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pSLOnR1s74o 

When I was a little girl, my mom used to put her hand on my leg to stop me fidgeting in church just like the dad in this video. That made me smile. I hope it does the same for you.

Wishing everyone the peace of Christmas all year long.

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