My Whim is Law

…where a single parent in Portland still believes that wishing will make it so…

Meet Nugget – the #whimcyst that got away

My head really started hurting the other day – right around this spot that I’d had a lump in for what seemed like forever. (A lump that neither my doctor or my hairdresser thought I should be concerned about, actually.) It was a spot about the size of a quarter, located on the back of my head – so I couldn’t easily examine it myself.

So I turned to those close to me. My son took one look at it and voted ‘tumah’. (In his best Schwartzenegger voice – lovely, no?) Two friends looked at it & said nah – it just looked like a big blackhead. Twitter friends came back with the definitive diagnosis: sebaceous cyst (and warned me against looking at YouTube videos of cysts that spontaneously erupt, thankfully). So I tried warm compresses, coconut oil massages – and still it was hot, red, angry & hurt like hell.

Because there has not been enough excitement in my life lately (not to mention visits to medical establishments), I managed to grab a doctor’s appointment to check it out this morning. Yep, sebaceous cyst – and they wanted to relieve me of it fairly quickly if possible. Only problem? They hadn’t carved out enough time to actually remove the cyst immediately, so I was persuaded to hang out for an hour or so to wait until they could pull a medical team together to do some skull surgery on me.

So of course, I turned to Twitter to amuse me (the only two magazines worth reading in the waiting area were a New Yorker from January & an AARP magazine. Sadly, the latter is now my demographic, I fear…)

And of course, announcements like “Woo! Skull surgery!” or “Looks like it’s time to shave my head” got the Twitter crowd interested.

But I might have gone overboard when I started live-tweeting the outcome, complete with photos (WARNING: photos may be deemed really really GROSS, as you will see below). That is, if my Twitter responses are any indication… Continue reading

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Last Tuesday? Not a very good day…

Woke up to a ringing phone call from the east coast – at 7 am, no less. (That’s usually never a good thing…)

Woke up with the nagging twinges that have been occurring with greater frequency in the right hip.

And then, I was sideswiped by a little old lady later that afternoon (as I was hustling over to see my chiropractor about the hip, no less).

The driver to my right as we both headed east on Belmont thought she needed to be in my lane, it seems. The only problem with that? My car was already occupying said lane. So after crashing into my car, she then crossed over, drove onto the sidewalk, knocked over a sign post & ended up against the wall of the building at the corner of SE Belmont & 10th.

Thankfully, neither one of us were hurt. But that little set of dings on the red car? The car that’s no longer driveable? The car that will need $2400 dollars worth of repairs? Yeah, that’s my car.

And after 2 days’ worth of DMV/mass transit/wrangling with multiple insurance co hassles, it’s now being fixed – on her insurance company’s dime, and not my own. (Instead, I’m now driving a Dodge Avenger while the repairs are underway.)

All’s well that ends well, you say? Sadly, the rest of the events that day aren’t nearly as fixable.

My #whimstomps? Once again on hold while we get some better shoe inserts, grrr.

(I chose to ignore this news for the rest of Tuesday – I needed the stress relief that walking provides that evening…)

And that phone call? Still knocking my world sideways, need to figure out what next steps are.

(Sorry, details will eventually come out – except to say this: cancer fucking sucks.)

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May goals? Yeah, *stomped* those.

So here’s what I said I was tackling over the next 6 weeks back on April 30th:

  • 100 miles total. If I can do over 50 in just over 3 weeks, surely I can do 100 in 6 – no?
  • 3 times weekly strength training workouts. Did 12 in March, but slipped to only 6 in April. Might do better if I get both engines firing on all cylinders, right?
  • 1 flexibility activity each week. Yoga? Dancing? Pilates? Something else, uh, recreational? Sure… (Yes, I have someonething in mind for the ‘uh, recreational’ part, thanks.)

Guess who’s either met or exceeded her goals – for the month of May alone? Yes, THIS woman.

  • 100 miles in 6 weeks? Hell, why not just do it in May & get it over with already? DONE (To be specific: 71 miles of walking, 29 miles on the stationary bike.)
  • 3 times a week for strength training? Did it/doing it – plus upped my weights while I was at it
  • Flexibility activities every week? Um, I’m doing it daily, people. Nightly yoga at least 5X/week. AM yoga at least 2 mornings. Dancing? Check. Other recreational activities? Um, CHECK.

I’m staying non-toxic. Keeping focused. And – most importantly of all, for me – I’m in control.

Why? Don’t you know already – it’s ’cause I’m bossy like that!

Posted in Boss Lady, Get Betsy Healthy | Leave a comment

Laying claim to a new hashtag: #whimgrin

Sure, I’ve been firing away on all cylinders when it comes to Getting Betsy Healthy. I’m doing my #whimstomps on a regular basis, leveling up to knock down fitness goals, or getting A+ grades from my doctor these days.

I’m also doing what I can to clear out the toxins from other areas in my life – even while trying to maintain my sanity as a full-time parent to two teenagers.

But I’ve been mining one area of my life for superficial comic relief lately – and that’s a pretty toxic habit as well (as evidenced by these recent experiences on the dating front).

(Do click through, read that last post, and note the date I wrote it…)

Why superficial? Because that’s how I’ve been approaching dating for oh, the last 5 years (had to go back through the archives to dig this post up as proof). And although the sentiments expressed in them are-oh-so-laudable (putting kids first, keeping parts of my life separated out, remembering my priorities, blah blah blah) – they’re also complete and total bullshit at the end of the day. Or far less true now than they might have been at the time as the kids get older/more independent.

Because the real truth here is that putting myself Out There — in That Way — scares the living shit out of me. And it stops me cold. (Yep, that’s the ‘toxic habit’ part.)

Sure, I’ve gotten good at doing superficial. Surface-level. Cashing mutual physical attraction in for mutual transitory benefits. And I fooled myself into thinking that’s all I had time for – all I wanted. (Or, if you dig a little bit under the surface – as I’ll do for the benefit of all the armchair psychologists reading this right now – all I felt I deserved.)

Until recently, when I told myself (and all of you, in classic @betsywhim oversharing mode) that Enough Was Enough.

And two days later, I met someone who knocked my socks right off. In every possible way.

(I have it on good authority that he’s similarly affected, but far far more restrained than I’m being here, heh…)

Now (here’s the disclaimer – get ready for it!) I have no idea if this is going to last – getting my socks knocked off by this particular guy, that is. But the feeling?

Yeah, this is what I’ve missed. And this is what I want more of.

What in the world am I talking about? The irresistible pull that has you both checking in every night to see how the other’s day was. Him asking how #SheTeen’s concert on Thursday night went afterwards. Me commiserating about job stresses. The insane desire to crawl into his head & learn more about how he ticks. The inside jokes – already. The endearments. The fact that he can look at me, know that I’m holding something back, and wants me to just spill it, please. And the effervescence that’s threatening to spill over as we both anticipate seeing each other later this evening (after we both fulfill kid responsibilities ’cause we both have ‘em. Kids and responsibilities, that is.)

I’ve been talking vaguely on Twitter & Facebook this week about the perma-grin that’s taken up residence on my face these days. Or I’ve talked privately with close friends about the shit-eating grin I’ve been sporting (along with the real reason why I’ve taken up wearing scarves this week, among other details…)

But I’m going public and naming it as the #whimgrin. It’s the bonus you get when you decide to stop being scared shitless and just go out and live life already.

In all areas of your life.

P.S. It has been suggested that perhaps this post is a wee bit premature, given the short history involved. I would argue that my point here is not that it’s this particular man (although I certainly hope that he’ll be here) that’s responsible for the shift – but rather, the change in being honest (from a transparent, ‘owning-it’ POV) about what I’m looking for in general.

Or it’s premature. In which case, so be it…! (I’m a big girl, I’ll live…)

Posted in Boss Lady, Oversharing | 5 Comments

Not everyone gets a song written about them for Mother’s Day, do they?

Well, if you’re the parent of #SheTeen (newly immortalized in this picture taken yesterday with Portland’s Mayor Sam Adams), you do.

Best. Mothers Day. Gift. EVAH.

(Until later today, when #HeTeen takes us both to Dick’s Kitchen for my Mother’s Day dinner, that is…)

Now, back out to enjoy the lovely atypical Portland Mother’s Day sunshine. Hope your day is equally spendiferous!

Monday AM UPDATE: #SheTeen did, in fact, get dessert last evening. Thought you’d want to know/I’d better document it…!

Posted in Boss Lady, Bossing the Kids | Leave a comment
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