Shoppin'!

I dislike shopping, especially when the boys are with me. They either tell me what they think I want to hear, or just agree with everything to hurry the process along because they really want to go to the electronic store. Sometimes they just laugh uproariously and inappropriately (a sure sign the darn thing does not flatter my figure), and other times they try to talk me into styles that I should not be considering. But when you need something, there is little other choice but to go into some store, hunt around, bag something and hopefully return victoriously.

It has been so cold in the Library that I have given up on wearing suit coats and donned sweaters every day. Some of my sweaters I have had a long time, and the extra wear and tear is showing. Some have become stained beyond remedy, and I tossed them, some have shrunk with over washing and they went in the Sal's donation bin. Alas, I found myself with only three viable sweaters, not enough for this extraordinarily cold winter.

My work at the High School Library was up to date enough that I decided to take a morning and see if there are any end of season bargains. After all, the spring line should be coming out soon. It is already end of January. I managed to ditch the boys and headed for my favorite clothing store, almost afraid of what I would find. Some years the colors are all wrong for me. Other years the styles are too young or too old and foppish.

This year though, there was a wide variety, and best of all a 60% and 75% off rack! I poked and prodded through the stacks of styles, fussing because this sweater was pretty but not in my size, this one the right size but the wrong color, that one had a plunging neckline totally inappropriate. At last I found an armful of acceptable candidates and headed for a dressing room.

How amazing it is that things on the hangar take on a whole different personality when you try them on! Stuff I loved on the rack looked awful on the body. Stuff I wasn't sure about but brought along just to see worked so well I selected it. I learned a long time ago that colors under a dressing room light are not always the same as colors in the bright revealing sunlight of day. I found a mirror near the storefront window and held the items next to my face. It was either yuck or wow.

When all was said and done, I had managed to find three warm and cozy sweaters at bargain prices that all looked fairly decent. Not bad for an hour's work. I can now stay warm in fire red, eggplant purple and royal blue.

Not So Routine Follow Up

I used to fuss about the week's wait to find out the results of the PET scans and MRIs. Now I rarely give it a thought. It has been the same old story ad infinitum. Yes, you have glowing spots in your body. Might be cancer. Probably a low grad lymph cancer. Sometimes shows up in different places. Hasn't really gotten large enough for us to do anything about it.



So I only left myself two hours for the appointment, scheduling a class library session for BIO 102 in the afternoon. I should have plenty of time to get there and back and listen politely to the same patter we have been exchanging for awhile. When they decided they would put me in the Conference Room because there were no examining rooms open, I felt justified in thinking that it would be the same conversation we have had often.



But I met a new doctor, one more versed in lymph issues. And I have new shiny spots now, ones worth investigating and somewhat larger (1.5cm is still not large). The two doctors strategized a three pronged two step attack. First I will undergo another MRI, then a gastro procedure during which they will attempt with some ultrasound thing to grab a biopsy of the swollen lymph glands in the stomach/liver area.



I will also have a bone scan since I now have bone involvement in my neck and mandibular area and that will determine whether they will biopsy the bone (yikes!). Oh, yes. Throw in a ton more bloodwork, thank you so much. Based on the findings, treatment (no detail given) will be determined.



Their attitudes were still encouraging and very positive. At best, its a low grade controllable cancer, just like they have been telling me all along. Relatively innocuous, but let's get a solid diagnosis. Really unlikely that this is the rectal cancer returning. Its good news! Fortunately, I didn't have time to process all that. I had to rush back to teach sophomores how to find articles on limnology without killing themselves.



I think I will be Scarlet and wait until tomorrow to worry about it all.

Girl Through the Glass

My office has a floor to ceiling window that looks out onto the Information Commons overtop of the Reference Stacks. People can tell if I am in my office by whether my light is shining through the window. When I first moved in, before there were even books on the Reference shelves, I would stand at my window and gaze out into the Library proper, seeing all that was going on in the world outside my door. I love my window.

I still glance out my window from time to time. Not as much as I used to. I guess I have adjusted to its presence. It seems a normal part of what I experience. I am sure I would be lost without it, but it holds no particular interest to my daily activities.

Not so for my young visitor. She is two going on twenty, filled with life and love and curiosity and shyness all rolled into a bundle of vivacious energy. Her Mom brought her into my office to visit (I begged shamelessly to see her despite the young lady's lack of interest in humoring an old lady). At first she shyly peeked through my doorway, afraid to come in or get too close to someone she barely knew. I had nothing of a toy or food nature to offer her and made myself a mental note to bring in young lady things that might interest her. After all, an enforced visit must hold some small token of fun.

She wandered down the short hall towards the Reference shelves, sneaking around the corner while I chatted with her Mom. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her looking in my window with interest. She stuck her nose squarely against the glass, her fingers pressed palm open next to her face, her eyes rolled upwards as she peered at us through the window.

I wandered over (so as not to scare her), reached out, and touched her hand with mine, the glass between preventing any real contact. She squealed with delight. So began our game. She moved her hand, I moved mine. We fingerprinted patterns all over the window from one side to the other, from the very bottom to as high up as she could reach on her tippy toes. When she pressed her face against the glass again, I beeped her nose with my finger and she laughed as if I had told the joke of the century.

We made spider crawls, worm wiggles, sand swirlies, polka dots and every imaginable pattern we could create as our hands worked together yet apart. Sometimes she led, sometimes I did. We bent down low, stood up tall, reached our arms wide apart. What an odd dance it must have seemed to anyone not playing our game. Her eyes glanced at mine everytime she moved, waiting to see if I would keep up with her, and when I did what she wanted she smiled. When I did the unexpected - going in the opposite direction or switching to my other hand - she laughed a deep loud belly laugh.

What hilarious fun! I have not played at little girl games for a long time. I can't wait until she is old enough to jump rope. What fun we might have, especially if she gets bold enough to step around the glass and actually come into my office! I am so happy she showed me the magic of my window and reminded me to take time to play once in awhile.