where I'm calling from

My life has been very busy lately, but in a good way. Let's have a quick recap, event by event:

Elliott Brooding at The Tractor.
Jim and I ate delicious thin crust pizza in Ballard at a "Cat-House-cum-Restaurant," then met Matt and Shaney for Elliott Brood at The Tractor. While the first two openers were rather mundane, Elliott Brood was great! But I was so very tired. What is it about being useless and old farty on Fridays? We went home by 1 am. PS: Shaney and I are going to restart swing lessons. Watch out, West Coasters!

Junior Boys in da house.
SDL phoned me and said she was going to chew her own arm off if she didn't get out of her house. She's a newish mom with a very young heart. We hit The Elysian brewery: SDL, me and Jim, then bounced at Chop Suey to Junior Boys. Imagine Modern Canadian Erasure. Fun! Then Linda bought me a buttery nipple shot and I was officially stupid for the rest of the night. Bedtime was 2.30 am.

Crushed.
T2 and Mr. O'Dea joined us at local fine dining establishment, Crush, last Wednesday. We partook in the "Urban Eats 3 for $30" menu. We also partook in champagne, Hendrick's gin and other schmancy cocktails. I dressed up like Joan from Mad Men. T2 sparkles. I think she has real-deal vampire skin in candlelight. Effervescent. We ate VERY well. I love bleu cheese so much I am going to marry it. Bedtime was midnight.

Il Fornaio is Italian for "free food."
Last Friday, Jim, Asian Dwight, and I met up with Karen at Il Fornaio for Happy Hour. Karen suggested it because she read that during happy hour, they set out yummy Italian nibbles. For free. We dined on stuffed mushrooms, bread sticks, bruschetta, red wine, shapely glasses of beer  and finger sandwiches of unknown origin. I drove Jim home through the rain to Federal Way where we snuggled into our jammies and fell asleep in front of an uncut, uncensored showing of "Team America: World Police" on Comedy Central. Fuck yeah. Bed time was approximately 11.27 pm for me and 11.40 pm for Mr. Snorlax.

Nonstop Bodyrock.
We bought tickets about six weeks ago for the Moby show at Showbox Sodo. But then Jim had a depressing Seahawks game yesterday and after coming off a 10 am Corona Buzz and Taco Bell Dollar Menu high, he was not all that jazzed for a concert that same night. Never fear. We stuffed ourselves on Sweet Italian pizza at Piecora's then napped before we hit the show. After a comatose opener, Moby was on, and that raving SOB was a wild man. Reminded me of my reckless raver days in the UK, or Club Entropy dances with Sheldon, B.Rad and Randar back in 1993. Moby did this incredible light show on weirdly textured curtains. He played bongos like a mad man. He hired a magically talented soul singer to belt out his tracks with him. We got our money's worth. Bedtime was well after 1 am. Again.

This week only has one night of plans so far: Friday, October 23rd, in which Jim and Pam will celebrate six months of totally fun dating. I can't believe it's been six months already. I can't believe how much I love my life right now.

Enough gushing. Projected bedtime tonight: 9 pm.  I am pooped.

Several months ago, I hit a rather low point in my life. I had broken up with my boyfriend, my cat became suddenly, and very expensively sick, then died, and I was diagnosed with recurrent thyroid cancer. Yay for me. Before I had broken up with that boyfriend and before I was rediagnosed, I lent him a large sum of money for his bills and a car payment. We super-novaed and he never paid me back, despite the fact his salary was exactly twice mine and well above six figures annually.

Then I got sick. Meh.

When I hit that low point, going through $4500 PET scans to see how badly my new round of cancer was attacking me, I got mad. I was mad at the injustice of illness. Mad that my ex would not leave me the hell alone (punctured car tires, anyone?) and mad that I was out eight LARGE because I had done a favor for someone who wasn't going to return it.

As a cathartic episode, I wrote out my anger and frustration, pounded it out in an email, and then shipped it to The Stranger, our weekly free rag and addressed it to the "I, Anonymous" column. I thought it was a good venue to do so since we had met through the magazine's Personals Ads.

Time passed, as it is wont to do. That was in late June, I think. I got rather wrapped up in my surgery/recovery/vacation/love episode that would soon follow and pretty much forgot about it. Also I watched a LOT of LOST. Seriously.

Imagine my surprise when I saw that my vitriolic email was printed in this week's issue. I take pride in being a good writer, so I am hoping that's what put me above the fold. But at the same time, I am not mad anymore. So I was a little embarrassed to see it out there.  I am also not surprised that my ex or one of his pals posted a link to my blog in the comments of said column. So, you're right, I guess I am not so anonymous anymore. But I am OK with that. I have a public blog and it has my picture on it. I don't really have anything to hide. Thanks for the web traffic??

And for those of you who are interested and don't want to read back over the past few months (though what blogger doesn't want increased readership?), here's where we are:

• I did adopt a new kitten from the humane society. Her name is Figgy and I adore her. She keeps me safe and happy as she is trained in ninja arts.
• I never did get the $800 back and decided to not pursue the case in small claims court.
• I met someone new. At work. And he's 100% awesome. As my pal Sabs puts it: "He's got good egg written all over him." I've never been so happy.
• I was rediagnosed with cancer very shortly after I left the ex. I was in remission the entire time we were together. He was never "there" for me in any capacity.
• I had surgery. And then I had some more. And as far as we can tell from the labs, blood work, scans and pathology, I may be pretty much OK. I murderalized that freakin' cancer!

Now, four months after submitting that spiteful note to The Stranger, the anger has pretty much evaporated. He can do his thing and I will do mine. I can live without the money as easily as I can live without him. I do not wish him ill. I do wish I lived in a world where mind-erasing scenarios such as Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind could be realized so I didn't think about him at all, but I still sleep pretty soundly at night regardless. I also sincerely hope all the ladies interested in this now-single man heed my Buyer Beware warning.

So, thank you for the time we have been given. Sorry this resurfaced like a persistent Hydra. Now, on to some new adventures.

When things are going well, I find I have less to say. I'm not so sardonic and witty. So let's allow Good Ol' Tuolumne County to do the talking today with the Latest Greatest Hits from the Police Blotter:

12:51 a.m., Sonora area —  A man said his girlfriend was drunk and annoying him on the 16100 block of Tuolumne Road. The man was told that being annoying and drunk in one’s own home is not a criminal offense.

1:13 a.m., Sonora — A drunk man apparently stumbled out into the road on the 90 block of South Washington Street and approached the driver’s side of a van and attempted to lean into the window but it was up. The man bounced off the vehicle and fell as the driver was driving away, and his foot was struck by the van’s rear tire.

4:23 a.m., East Sonora — A man on the 14100 block of Tuolumne Road said he heard voices under his residence and his dog was growling. While the area was being checked, a neighbor said someone had rung her door bell.

10:22 a.m., Columbia — A man on Quarry Road said he let his son use his vehicle but the son traded it for drugs and the dealers won’t return the vehicle.

12:47 p.m., Twain Harte — A man said after he yelled at another driver for “driving crazy” on Twain Harte Drive, the other driver cut his vehicle off to make him stop, hit him in the face and ripped his shirt off. The first man said he then used pepper spray on the other driver and on a second person who was with him.

1:23 p.m., suspicious circumstances — A “crazy” woman in a Def Leppard shirt was allegedly harassing employees and customers at a grocery store on the 1200 block of Sanguinetti Road. She washed her hair in the bathroom sink and “became very angry” when employees would not give her a free flu shot.

3:54 p.m., Tuolumne — The assistant principal at Summerville Elementary School said a sixth-grader pulled out a six-inch knife after school, which caused several students to run home.

5:15 p.m., Don Pedro — A woman on the 14300 block of Las Palmas Way said her neighbor tried to run her over and on a prior occasion hid in the bushes and threw a rock at her dog’s head.

6:57 p.m., Sonora — Three goats and a goose were in the roadway on Racetrack Road at Rough and Ready Trail.

8:01 p.m., Jamestown — A man said another man repeatedly gives his sister alcohol at the nursing home where she lives on the 18700 block of Highway 108.

8:32 p.m., Tuolumne — A couple was arguing on the 18500 block of Carter Street and shredding old Valentine’s Day cards.

And this week's absolute, hands-down winner:

2:39 a.m., Columbia — Responding to a call about a prowler on the 11400 block of Jackson Street, deputies found a disoriented naked man who said he was going to a “Boy Scout jubilee.” He was arrested on suspicion of public intoxication.

A moment arrives, after a long bout of illness or recovery, where you wake up and feel "well" again. Not suddenly well, but gradually, only you'll realize it all in one instance. This week marks the week where I feel well again.

On Monday, I saw my endocrinologist, Dr. A. Already the tumor markers in my blood are falling back, a great indicator of surgery success and overall health. And while my medication levels are slightly off, they are not alarmingly off. I may need to slightly increase the amount of hormone replacement I take, but we'll cross  that bridge in November. As for an ablative dose of radioactive iodine, Dr. A says she's not interested in giving it to me right now. We will reserve that magic bullet for inoperable recurrence, should it happen in the future.

Other than a chuck on the shoulder and an Rx for a blood redraw in a few months, I won't have to go back until I have a repeat ultrasound study ... in March 2010.

I am elated by the news. It's the closest thing to a "You're all cured!" diagnosis I can get. I can take off the boxing gloves for a few rounds.

Tonight, Linda and I went to an advanced screening of the Drew Barrymore directorial debut film, "WHIP IT!" It's a coming of age, charming story that just happens to feature flat track roller derby racing. Seattle is lucky enough to have its own derby league, The Rat City Rollergirls, and they were out in droves at the show tonight.

I am attracted to roller derby. I like the sexy, yet tough atmosphere. I admire women being athletic, yet feminine. I love the music, costumes, and team atmosphere. But when I strap roller skates to my feet, bad things happen. I flail and fall. And with my 5x-fused spine, propensity to tip backwards, and fragile bone structure, I am not a good candidate for this sport; I'm only a good candidate for traction and casts. You have to be very tough to skate derby style.

The other day, my company's CFO stopped by my cube to see how I was feeling. His 15-year-old daughter was recently diagnosed with papillary thyroid carcinoma and had her own thyroid removed, just a week after I'd gone in for my revision surgery. He had a lot of questions about what to expect and I said the low iodine diet and radiation treatments were the worst part. After I was well and returned to work, I made a bound copy of the Thyroid Cancer Network's low iodine cookbook to help her during this tough time.

She's just now going off her meds and starting the diet. My CFO says she has meltdowns on a regular basis and asked what it was like for me. I've had radiation three times. I told him how I would get so tired I would have to hold my own arm up with my other hand as I brushed my teeth. The fatigue was so great, I could not raise an arm for two sustained minutes. He looked at me, gave me a knuckle punch and said, "Girl, I have a lot of respect for how tough you are."

I may not be tough enough for flat track derby, but I am tough enough, in my own way.

Jim and I took our first trip together last week: A mini vacation to SF. The trip started pretty awesomely as the cast of the FX show, "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" was on our flight. I snuck a snapshot picture with my grainy zoom lens. Imagine my surprise when Danny Devito waddled up to join the crew just minutes before we boarded the plane. Off we went!

We immediately met up with Randar, Sabs, Scottel, Anneh, and her roomie Meg in The Mission at a joint called Monk's Kettle. Sour Flemish ales were had. I also tried a lovely black currant cider and some of the best pomme frites ever! We skipped over to an authentic taqueria and gorged ourselves on greasy OG Mexican cuisine. Afterwards we landed at the Elbo Room where my best DJ mate and former mentor, Fuchsia, was throwing her decadent monthly goth night. All the other kids begged off but Jim and I listened to the swirling gloaming for another hour or so. He really liked the music so I told him to raid my collection when we got home. There's plenty more where that came from.

The next day we walked through the Not-So-'Tender'loin and over towards the Castro. Our plan was to hit the Academy of Sciences after breakfast. Problem was, there were no cabs to be had. We hoofed all the way over to the park from Union Square. By the time we got there, my feet were not ready for the museum shuffle. However, the newly-refurbished place was well worth the look-see, especially the spiraling rain-forest exhibit where we met geckos, snakes and billions of butterflies.

We hopped over to the De Young Museum for the expensive and popular King Tut exhibit. They could have told us at the outset that King Tut was not physically present. Not even a single sarcophagus was there. I guess if I knew my current affairs, I would know that Tut is not permitted to leave Egypt any longer, but since I am 100% American, I slapped down my $30/head and expected to see a shriveled old boy king. Instead I saw a lot of King Tutankhamen's gilded stuff and wooden boxes. Neat, but a little deflating.

Later Jim and I went to AT&T park where Mark Twain's adage "The coldest winter I every spent was a summer in San Francisco" came true. Billowing icy mists froze us out as the Giants blew a 9th-inning lead to the Cubs. We were so beat down from our multi-mile trek that we wrapped up the evening with Guiness pints at a local Irish Pub where, unknown to us, it was the official 250th birthday of Guinness. Doesn't that beat all.

On Friday we rode the "Ding Ding Ding" up the hill to North Beach where we carbo-loaded on Italian food. The sun shined hard and hot, so we walked to the wharf. It didn't take Jim long to recognize that tourist trap for what it was, so we wasted time by touring underneath the Golden Gate Bridge on a short bay cruise. We were lost in such a thick fog we had to hold our ears as we passed the fog horns.

Later that night we met with Randar and Sabs to tour Alcatraz at night. It's creepy by day, but at night, the crowds are thinner and extra super creepy rooms are open. We shuffled through the scary dilapidated salt-eaten rooms, glued to our audio tours. Sabs and I discussed an award-winning historical novel idea that I am kicking around in my head rather seriously. I showed them the fake blood on the ceiling of the Hospital Ward left over from the movie, The Rock. We cruised back to the mainland sitting atop the roof level of the ship as twinkling San Francisco rose in front us.

After dinner, Irish Coffee and a shared cab, it was time to head back to the hotel and say good-bye. Our short vacation was already over. We crammed in so many memories in such a short amount of time. My legs ached from the walking, but I felt happier than I have in a long time. I feel so lucky to have such marvelous and genuine friends and the most caring, attentive, loving boyfriend ever invented.

Let's do it again!