Friday, July 8, 2011
Vinny scaling the man-made wall at the Hook.
One day in Capitola.
"Hey, can we drive down to the beach and check the waves?" I ask.
Even if I can't surf, I like to keep an eye the Ocean and see how she's doing.
"Sure," says Hubby, knowing that's a statement in the form a question.
"Are you guys gonna come with me?" I ask.
"No, we're gonna stay in the car," say The Three Musketeers.
They didn't recognize my rhetorical question so I prod them with, "Uh, I think we SHOULD all go down to the beach."
"Okay," say The Three Musketeers.
Someone always gets cut out of the self-family portrait.
Look, an ankle high wave!
Thursday, July 7, 2011
"Honey, you gotta see this!" says Hubby, watching the Weather Channel.
"Holy cow!" I shriek. "That's a huge Ha-boob!"
According to Wilma Weathercaster, "The Ha-boob, a giant wave of dust, was two miles high and up to 100 miles wide in some places, blanketed the city of Phoenix."
"Can I see?" calls a voice that's supposed to be sleeping.
"Sure," says Hubby.
"I think a lot of people have learned a new word this week, if they never heard of Ha-boob, now they have," says Wilma Weathercaster.
Uh, Wilma I think we've all heard of a boob, in fact, all my friends have two of them.
"I know what a Ha-boob is," says Vinny.
"What kind of books are you reading, they seem inappropriate?" asks Hubby.
"A Ha-boob is large wall of sand," says Vinny. "It was in a book I just read, "Questors."
"Wilma Weathercaster said it was dust," I say.
"Sand, dust it's all the same," says Vinny.
And now for the rest of the night I will be hearing things like, "ha ha ha ha boob," and "I've never seen Ha boob so big!"
I'm. Not. Kidding.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
"Yep," replies Hubby.
Behold the Nutella sandwich.
"Daddy give me some!" demands Gio.
"You had ice cream for dessert," says Hubby, hiding something delicious under the table.
"You had ice cream, too!" cries Gio.
"I'm bigger than you," replies Hubby.
"But Nutella isn't dessert," pleads Gio. "It's good for you."
"No," says Hubby.
"Did somebody say chocolate?" say my Ears.
"Are you hiding a Nutella sandwich under the table?" I ask.
"Dad, I told you, you shouldn't have bought Nutella when we were at the store," says Vinny.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
I love this song! Yes, I'm at it again. Well, I can't surf, but at least I can listen to music. For me, music must be inspiring, uplifting and positive. Especially considering the high degree of suckiness my life has been filled with lately.
"Mansions," by Burlap To Cashmere off their "Anybody Out There," CD is all of that and more. The album, released in the late 90s was pretty hard to find when I went searching for it several years ago.
Fortunately, I managed to get one via Amazon. Ironically, the last track on the CD, my favorite song, "Mansions," was unplayable.
Haha, Universe, joke's on me. Thankfully, I have a warrior-like sense of humor. That and the rest of the album is pretty good.
Anyways, Burlap to Cashmere is releasing a new album July 19th. I can't wait to listen to it. Hopefully, on my way to the beach to surf.....
Thursday, June 30, 2011
I'm not sure which I love more. The sunset. Or the people down at the beach enjoying the sunset. What an awesome feeling it is, being surrounded by people who are in the moment, contemplating Nature's Magnificence.
Some of the best drugs in life are free.
But as soon as the sun goes down, it's like everyone is suddenly cut off from their Nirvana IV drip, as they race to get out of the parking lot first.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Family Game Night.
I love Summer! It's 8:15 at night. The four of us are sitting around the kitchen table playing a wicked game of Scrabble the old fashion way.
"You're out of time," says Hubby.
"There's no time limit in Scrabble!" protests Vinny, while looking up words on the Word-O-Mattic (Nintendo DSI XL)."
"Actually I think there is a time limit," I say. "And I'm sure looking up words on the Word-O-Matic is cheating."
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
"Electric Feel" Live
Electric Feel by MGMT, is making my skin tingle. And I'm not even dancing. Whew! Sexy is as sexy does, and Electric Feel definitely does.
I always thought this song was by Outkast, not MGMT.
I can't decide if I like the live version or the official video better. They're both hot. Musicians being musicians always turns me on, especially ones wearing dyed wife beater shirts. But the dancers and drummers in the official video are oozing sensuality from their auras. Plus, the dancing bear is really cute.
Maybe I won't decide. Both are fabulous! Enjoy! Preprare to be inspired.
Electric Feel Official Video
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Vignette Graduated Tobacco filter (landscape).
"I need to drop off a few wetsuits at O'Neill's for repairs, so let's just go see a movie in Santa Cruz," I say.
"No, I don't really want to, it's too far," says Hubby.
"Uh, you just went too Germany, but the movie theater in Santa Cruz, where we're already going to be, is too far?" is all I could think.
But all I said was, "Just drive to Santa Cruz, okay?"
"Alright, " says Hubby.
We dropped off the wetsuits.
"Wait, where are you going?" asks Hubby as I head to the back of the surf shop.
"I'm going to look at surfboards," I say.
Duh. It's sacrilegious to enter a surf shop without paying homage to the surfboards. It's the equivalent of going to church without praying.
I slowly felt up a few curvy outlines of several Channel Islands Surfboards, while Hubby held them side by side for me. They even had one Fred Rubble model, a newly designed board, which has me all hot and bothered.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I like it," I say.
But Fred was not the right size for me, and we got out of there with Hubby's wallet in tact.
"Phew," we both thought.
"What do you want to do now?" I ask.
"Well, I'm not hungry at all," says Hubby.
"I'm starving, let's go eat!" I say.
"Alright," says Hubby, knowing all my questions, tonight, are rhetorical.
After dinner I say, "should we go to the beach or Trader Joes?" I say.
(This was actually a test, which he failed, because he instantly began driving to Trader Joes.)
"So, you'd rather go to the grocery store than the beach?" I ask. "Don't you, at least, have to think about it?"
"I'd rather just go home," says Hubby patiently.
Seriously, this man has extra patience genes. Either that, or I suspect he's been stealing some of mine.....
"Let's turn around and go to the beach," I say.
Hubby flips a You-Ee.
"No, let's go to Trader Joes, we really need butter," I say, in full scatter brain mode.
This argument is typical of the neurotic "flee from responsibility, be responsible" battle that rages through my brain incessantly. Fortunately, the beach won tonight, because Hubby wouldn't turn around, again. Thank Goddess.
Look Internet, I'm not trying to drive him crazy. I come by this talent naturally. I barely even try.
We walked down the new staircase at The Hook, at the end of 41st Avenue in Capitola.
"Wow, they finally finished the staircase!" I say. "These are some fancy stairs,"
"I wonder how long they'll last?" ponders Hubby.
Then we walked all the way up to Sewer Peak just past Pleasure Point. The Point had the best waves. Though the tide was too high, it didn't stop us from mind-surfing a few fun ones.
There were a wide array of creatures on the coastal trail on East Cliff Drive.
"Is that a dog?!" asks Hubby. "It looks like a horse."
"I think it's a really tall person walking on all fours," I say.
"Oh my gosh, there's a rabbit!" says Hubby.
"Yeah, I think he's at that house party," I say. "They were talking about him behind his back."
We also saw pedestrians, bicyclists and runners. Whether cloaked in fur or clothes everyone, was, in their own way, enjoying the divinity of nature, and of course, sporting their bright yellow auras.
"That was really fun, thanks!" I say to Hubby.
Hubby is the perfect date, even if sometimes, I have to drag him along.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
I realize this play room may not be as cool or organized as some, but for us this is perfection. And by perfection, I mean there's no longer a narrow, over grown trail, with tripping hazards leading into the room.
We only bought the gynormous cubby organizer at Ikea a year ago, and we are just now putting it to efficient use. That didn't take long at all.
The main purpose of the shelving is to give a home to the boys', all three of them, thousands of legos. The stackable bins, which we already had, worked out a lot better, than the baskets we purchased from Ikea. But this is a work in progress, and since we know nothing about organizing, we're bound to make a few costly mistakes.
I'm excited that the two work tables, can also double as desks for completing homework when school starts. (note to the roommates: horizontal surfaces are not for storage)
I feel so good about this space now!!!!!! And I didn't even drink a pot of coffee to accomplish this feat of amazingness. Though I did take several power naps. Turns out, I accomplish much more when I'm well rested, as opposed to caffeineating my way through exhausting menial tasks.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Last night, while Facebooking I read, "Kelly (Slater)will be on the Chelsea Lately show on E! tonight, check local listings."
"Yippeee!" I say. "This should be interesting."
I thought about getting up and tivo-ing the show. But then my brain moved onto something else, like Scrabble or oh nevermind, and I forgot all about it.
Thank goodness for YouTube! It's a pretty funny clip, whether you like surfing or not.
"So who is this hostess?" asks Hubby, as we're watching the posted video. "Is she new?"
"Chelsea Lately," I say. "You know, I read a few of her books."
As we're watching the interview my Mom says, "Did she really say that?!"
"Yeah, she's really crude," I say. "I love her!"
Oh and Chelsea, I may not be a journalistic expert, but I'm pretty sure I would never, ever, call a guy "tiny," to his face, let alone on TV. And then in the next sentence compare him to Greek Surfing God Laird Hamilton. Yeah, probably not a good idea.
"I like this show, it's funny," says Hubby. "Let's watch more."
And now we're having our own private Chelsea Lately Marathon on hulu.com.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
It's good to know I'm not the only who feels this way about licking and double dipping.
Today marks the fourth week since The Concussion. And sadly I'm still having headaches. Yes, it's my fourth week of not surfing. I think it is safe to say I'm turning into a real pain in the you know what Internet.
I wish I were exaggerating. But all I have to do is look at Hubby's perplexed face to see I'm telling the truth.
Until I can surf, I'm going to work on doing other "fun," things. Some of which shall not be named, like dancing naked under the fog. Or picking my nose whilst laying on ice.
Wait did I just write that? Oh my, I'm missing my meds, aren't I? It times like these I wish drugs and alcohol didn't make me so ill, because I could use some right now. Oh well, I guess laughter is the best medicine.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
I'm in like with this song! But I have no idea what they're singing. Even after reading the lyrics. Though I have a feeling this could be the track to my life.
Foster The People's (as in take care of the people) most popular song is, "Pumped Up Kicks." It's pretty catchy. I like it, too. I love discovering new music, especially when I'm in desperate need of inspiration!
Thank you Facebook, the greatest invention since gluten-free sliced bread. Why do I feel like I'm cheating on Twitter when I say that?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
They're back! And they're all asleep, except for my little bookworm. Hehe.
"Where did they go?" asks The Internet.
"Oh, Hubby, crazy person that he is, took Gio and Vinny to Germany for two weeks, to see family. I say crazy because, well, I'm certain, if you have kids, it's self explanatory."
"They were really good," says Hubby. "Way better than they are at home."
I guess I worried about his sanity for nothing. I'm so happy they're back safe and sound. I missed them. But were they really this loud before they went to Germany?
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Continued from yesterday.
It started out with a phone call from my Mom.
"I don't feel good," says my Mom. "My heart's racing, like before."
My Mom has had a few episodes like this, two I believe, not counting yesterday. I went with her to see her cardiologist about a month ago. Dr. Heart diagnosed her as having an electrical, or rhythmic problem with her heart, as opposed to what he calls a plumbing issue, typically known as blockages.
Basically, there's an electrical circuit in my Mom's heart that goes haywire. Instead of going in a straight line, the circuit goes around and around in a circle causing the heart to beat rapidly. The symptoms she's been experiencing include shortness of breath, strong pressure on the throat, headaches, and chest pressure.
"Of course, there's a chance I'm wrong," admits Dr. Heart.
Yeah, we get it. There are no guarantees in life, Doc.
Dr. Heart prescribed the smallest dosage of a medicine to keep her heart from beating out of control. When I say beating out of control, I mean beating over 160 beats per minute. The normal heart rate is between 60-80 beats per minute, at rest. Dr. Heart also warned her to avoid caffeine because it can trigger these types of episodes.
"What about dehydration?" I ask Dr Heart. "She doesn't drink enough water."
"Yes, dehydration can exacerbate electrical matters of the heart," answers Dr. Heart.
In light of that doctor visit a month ago, when I got the call from my Mom yesterday, I wasn't sure what to think.
"What do you want to do?" I ask my Mom.
"I need to finish up with my client," answers my Mom, not sounding great. "I called Dr. Heart he's supposed to call me back. I gotta go (click)."
And now I wasn't sure what to do? I was supposed to get a massage at two it was already eleven. Hmmmmm.
I text this info to my Mom.
"Should I cancel my appointment," I text.
"No, I can manage," texts my Mom.
I cancel my massage, "Dude, my Mom's having some heart issues, I think I need to cancel."
"Yeah, you do," says Mr. CMT. "You've got to take care of the head and the heart, my friend."
Next I call my Mom back, "Can your client drop you off at ER and I'll meet you there?"
"Yeah," says my Mom (click).
If I hadn't spent my whole life being hung up on, by my Mom, this probably would have been upsetting. But I have, so it wasn't. I've learned to accept her for who she is, but I really was worried about her.
I take a quick shower, and as I'm walking out the door my Mom's friend calls, "I just dropped your Mom off at ER."
"Thanks, I'm on my way," I say.
I got to the ER after my Mom, expecting to find her in the waiting room. But she had already been admitted. Apparently the ER takes matters of the heart, to heart.
I quickly got an escort back to ER. Not that I needed one. I know that place like the back of my hand. Did I mention this was my second trip to the ER in 22 days, and my fourth trip since December? Did I?
I walk in on my Mom telling Dr. ER, "I don't have time for this. I have stuff to do! Will I be able to do my docent duties at Point Lobos tomorrow??????"
And on and on she went, while the Universe and Dr. ER along with the nurses chuckled. Because when the Universe says, "STOP!" you have no choice but to listen.
As opposed to when the Universe says, "SLOW DOWN," or "Heed my warnings or else," or flashes you a yellow light. One can still move about, albeit with varying degrees of pain and discomfort.
"We're just about to do some stuff, here, but have a seat," says Dr. ER, motioning me to chair.
Then Dr. ER turns back to my Mom and says, "since the breathing didn't work, we're going to have to give you this medicine intravenously. It's going to make you feel really bad for a second or two. I mean terrible. As in awful. But only for a few seconds. It's really short, but terrible."
Is he serious?
Then all the nurses proceeded to repeat what Dr. ER had just said.
Are they serious?
Now, I was scared.
Apparently, Dr. ER could tell and reassuringly says, "this is safe, and it works really fast."
My Mom incorrectly thought she needlessly came to the ER, but this medicine can only be administered at a hospital where, if there are complications, they're equipped to deal with them.
Her heart was beating over 160 beats per minute. And this had been going on for nearly two hours. Oh Father Neptune.
(Side note: Though I missed the "breathing thing, basically Dr. ER instructed my mom to take a deep breath in, hold it and then bare down, like you're trying to poop. But don't." Dr. Heart later explained to us the Breathing Faux-Pooping Technique stimulates the parasympathetic nervous system inducing the relaxation response, which slows down the heart and respiratory rates.)
Back to the scary good medicine.
"Okay, are you ready?" asks Dr. ER. "Here it comes......."
"Oh my, it's really bad," agrees my Mom.
And then we all watched her heart rate go down to normal in less than a minute. Woah! Amazing Grace!
"Do you feel better?" asks Dr. ER.
"Yeah, but that felt like a bomb went off inside of me," answers my Mom. "It was as if someone was gripping me by the throat and lifting me up! Whew!"
It was smooth sailing from there, with a follow-up EKG, which looked great according to Dr. Heart, "You're heart is strong. And that's a good thing. There's no damage."
And, of course, some blood work.
"Can you tell if she's dehydrated from any of the tests?" I ask Dr. ER.
"Yeah, we can get a good idea," says Dr. ER.
Later on Dr. ER babbled about something or other being elevated in my my Mom's blood, "indicating slight dehydration."
Aha! I knew it! My Mom doesn't drink enough water.
Dr. Heart felt the episode, Friday, confirmed his previous diagnosis that my Mom's heart issue is a rhythmic, electrical malfunction, and not a plumbing problem.
"It's exactly what I thought!" exclaims Dr. Heart. "This proves it."
I agree with Dr. Heart. But mainly I'm just glad my Mom's okay. For now, Dr. Heart is going to increase the dosage of the medication he originally put her on, since she "broke through the lower dose."
This will REQUIRE careful daily monitoring of her blood pressure which shouldn't go below 100/whatever, Dr. Heart's words not mine. And her heart rate which shouldn't go below 50 beats per minute.
And she'll be drinking plenty of water.
"When was the last time you drank water?" I ask.
"I don't know?" answers my Mom.
Wrong answer. Oh Father Neptune. But somehow I know we'll get through this. We always do.
Friday, June 17, 2011
I had a rough day, but this picture makes me feel more better. To keep a long story short, I will say I had my second to trip to the ER in 22 days, and my fourth trip there, since December.
"Hello, Universe? Are you freaking kidding me?"
Internet, I would love to give you all the details now, but my head is pounding and I'm exhausted. I promise full disclosure tomorrow.
To be continued.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Before I start the movie review, Internet, I have a confession to make. I knew nothing about, "Charlie St Cloud," I only rented it because Zac Efron is beautiful. That and the movie summary didn't sound half bad. Oh, and Yahoo Movies user reviews gave the film an A-.
I will generally watch any movie with a Y!M user rating of B- or higher. Truth be told, I rarely find movies in the A range.
On to the movie. I hope you have your bucket of lightly salted popcorn.
I personally give, Charlie St Cloud," (CSC) an A+! Not just because Zac Efron is hot. Or because his co-star Amanda Crew is sexy. Or because they have a sizzling on screen romance making Brangelina look like Ma and Pa Kettle.
Their chemistry is so fiery, their cemetary sex scene was borderline erotica. They lit up the burial grounds. Literally. That's not easy to do. Graveyards are full of creeps. But I guess they don't mind being watched.
Now that's what I call a romantic drama.
CSC fluctuated between dream like scenes with a backdrop of the majestic Canadian coast. Then it would venture over to darker scenes filled with varying shades of grey.
The story is supernatural in the spirit of, "The Sixth Sense," or the more recent. "Hereafter," where live folks talk to dead people. I LOVE this.
But if you're dead, it doesn't mean I want to talk to you, especially when I'm sleeping. Honestly, I hate when ghosts wake me up in the middle of the night. It's rude for one, and scary, for two!
Oh yeah I'm crazy like Charlie St Cloud.
The film is based on the best-selling novel by Ben Sherwood titled, "The Death and Life of Charlie St Cloud." Hmm, sounds like a good read.
Viewers be warned CSC is a tender hearted movie, so have some tissue handy or your partner's shirt.
The film deals with heavy duty themes such as life after death, grief, letting go, and finally healing and rebirth. The movie brought tears to my eyes on several on occassions, but left me feeling inspired.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Thanks to my recent head trauma I have been watching a lot of movies over the last few weeks. Sadly, I wouldn't say many of them are worth watching, or suggesting them to friends.
But Easy A, starring the dynamic Emma Stone, as Olive, was witty, inspiring and entertaining. I definitely recommend it cause it is laugh out loud funny.
Olive makes up a fake date to get out of going camping with her frenemy. When asked how her date went, instead of telling the truth, that she had a boring weekend at home with her parents, she lies and says she had s3x with the guy.
A bible thumping girl overhears the conversation, and Olive's lie spreads like wildfire across the high school campus. Big surprise.
Instead of denying the rumor, Olive embraces it, and even brandishes the red letter "A," on her slutified clothes, when she returns to school. Hey a girl's got to live up to her reputation.
Not coincidentally Olive's English class happens to be reading the novel the "Scarlett Letter," which partly inspired the film. They were so mean to poor Hester Prynne, almost as mean kids can be in high school.
Olive frequently talks to the camera giving the movie an intimate, YouTube-esque, vlogger (video blogger) feel.
Easy A, pays homage to the 80s flicks I grew up on such as, "The Breakfast Club," "Sixteen Candles," and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," to name a few.
Olive Penderghast: Whatever happened to chivalry? Does it only exist in 80's movies? I want John Cusack holding a boombox outside my window. I wanna ride off on a lawnmower with Patrick Dempsey. I want Jake from Sixteen Candles waiting outside the church for me. I want Judd Nelson thrusting his fist into the air because he knows he got me. Just once I want my life to be like an 80's movie, preferably one with a really awesome musical number for no apparent reason. But no, no, John Hughes did not direct my life.
But Easy A has a cuter male love interest, than any of those 80s flicks, who walks around campus in various costumes, including studly, blue, body paint.
I. Am. Not. Kidding. Oh and guys, not to worry Olive is hot and not really in high school. I hope.
Easy A is laugh out loud funny, and any movie that makes fun of Tom Cruise is okAy, in my visual viewing world.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Toy Camera Black and White effect.
Real photographers may cringe over special effect apps for camera phones, like the outrageously popular Instagram for iPhone, and Vignette for Android. Personally, I think these apps are kind of fun. And make an average picture, better.
The other night I went to my BFF's house. She is an amazing photographer. Upon seeing her work I thought to myself, "Geez, I really should stop taking pictures. Or take a class. Or something."
Oh well, maybe if we touch our pinkie fingers together a few morsels of her photographic genius will download to my visual cortex.......
Sunday, June 12, 2011
My cell rings a-lings.
"Hi Mom," I say.
"What are you doing?" asks my Mom.
"I just finished getting my Mammogram with ultrasound," I say.
"I didn't know you were getting a mammogram today?" says my Mom in surprise.
"Yeah, it was time," I say. "But I also had a boob lump that needed checking, that's why I got the ultrasound, too."
Complete and utter silence.
"Oh, um I see," says my Mom.
But what my Mom was really thinking was, "why is this the first time I'm hearing about this?! Wth!"
"I didn't tell you about the lump because I didn't want you to worry for nothing," I say. "I figured I would tell you after I had it checked. And I'm fine, so don't worry."
"Yeah, you're probably right," says my Mom in relief.
I found the boob lump about three weeks ago. It was right at the beginning of my womanly cycle, so I waited a week to see if it disappeared. It didn't.
I quickly got an appointment with my OB/GYN who said, "It's probably nothing, but you need to get it checked out with a diagnostic mammogram to be sure."
I felt a little better. And I was due for my annual booby, "it hardly hurts," squishing. I scheduled an appointment in two weeks and tried not to think, or touch the boob lump. Besides, I was focused on my concussion, anyways, which for the most part made thinking and worrying intolerable.
I didn't tell anyone, save for Hubby and a few friends. There was no point in worrying everyone, for nothing. I hoped.
A regular mammogram screening takes Xrays. If anything looks suspicious on the film, the patient is invited back for more boob squashing Xrays and an ultrasound. That happened to me last year.
On the other hand, in a diagnositc mammogram, the boobs are assigned their own doctor and given Xrays and ultrasound in the same appointment.
Once at the diagnostic screening, I felt relieved to finally be on the brink of finding out if I had cancer or not.
"So if my Xray or ultrasound looks suspicious, what next?" I ask the Tech nervously.
"You get a biospy," answers the Tech. "And we can do it right here."
"Today?" I ask.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
"Yes," answers the Tech. "But first let's do the Xrays and ultrasound."
After the mishmashing of boobs and Xrays, I went straight to the ultrasound room where I had a disappointing short wait for the Radiologist. I say disappointing, because I really wanted to finish reading Vanity Fair's interview with Katy Perry. The same interview I started at the Gyno's office for my original booby lump feel up.
"Your mammogram looks great!" exclaims the Radiologist, walking into the room. "Your breasts are very fatty."
Awesome, now my boobs need their own workout routine? I don't have time for that.
"Uh, thanks, I think," I say.
"Fatty breast tissue is good, because it looks grey on the film, and cancer is white so it shines like a star in the night sky. Glandular or dense breast tissue, on the other hand is white. Finding a white cancerous tumor on dense breasts is like looking for a needle in a haystack."
The Radiologist went on to say, "Women with dense breasts should also have an ultrasound. I've already found seven breast cancers using ultrasound that didn't show up on their mammogram."
"Wow, that's amazing," I say.
"Every woman should know if her breast are dense," says the Radiologist. "If a woman has dense breast tissue, a mammogram isn't enough to detect breast cancer. "We're trying to get insurance coverage for women with dense breasts for ultrasounds."
"Where can I get more information about this?" I ask.
"Go to www.areyoudense.org,"
answers the Radiologist."It's a website started by a woman whose breast cancer went untected by mammogram."
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
It doesn't take much effort on the Mew Kittens part to get the dog out of her cozy cushion. All they do is walk up to her bed, sit down and stare at her. It takes less than one minute for the dog to skidattle, and the kittens to perform their premeditated bed abduction.
It's typical sibling nature to want what the other has. But even the boys don't steal each other's beds.
Though I'm sure it's only because Musical Mattresses has been banned in our house since the LICE Head Invasion.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Oh em gee, Internet! I'm watching Burlesque. And it is so good. Whoever thought of putting The Fabulous Christina Aguilera in a starring singing/dancing/acting role is a cinematic genius.
Add to that Cher, who still has it going on. Plus, the dashing Stanley Tucci. Oh and how could I forget Aguilera's brawny, songwriting musician, frequently shirtless, sometimes naked, roommate?
Wait, did I leave out the dancers? With their contionist dance moves and bodies of perfection. Oh and there's even a diabolical plot, or two.
Burlesque is visually spectacular, auditorily orgasmic, and exceptionally entertaining. It's what I would call a great movie. And by great movie, I mean I feel inspired. I must get the soundrack!