I had this idea that having spring tulips and daffodils to look forward to would help me get through this long, tough winter. I got excited, and found a great deal on daffodils and muscari. I mentioned the idea to several family members, and boxes of bulbs have been appearing throughout the last several weeks. As a result, I have several hundred flower bulbs looking for homes in my yard.
Due to unanticipated circumstances, however, my Martha Stewart of bulbs has altered her plans to visit and won't be coming until after bulb planting season. Which means, we really could use some help. Anyone visiting this week who doesn't mind getting dirty, we have a great project for you. And next weekend is open season for anyone who wants to come up, say hello, and get some daffodils (or a crocus, or a hyacinth, or a tulip or three) into the garden. I'll make the hot apple cider and hot cocoa!
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Evanston forecast.....chance of Lynns
Tomorrow, Friday, I am planning my first solo venture down to Northwestern. I'm meeting my PhD dissertation advisor, and going to hear a talk by a friend. It will be my longest drive, and longest solo outing since I was diagnosed. It will also be the first time I am out with lots of people that I know, but aren't my inner circle, with my chemo-chic look. I'm a little nervous. Thinking about the trip also reminds me of everything I HAVEN'T done - written that paper, applied for that fellowship, read that book...
I know, I know, what I am doing takes energy, and time, and concentration. And is pretty much the best excuse ever. ("Pardon me, Miss Millman? Can I be excused from gym class? I have cancer.") And, every time I try to do something, I get tired. (I HATE being tired. Ask my mom.)
It would be easier, I think, if I either felt fine all the time or crappy all the time. But chemo feels like having a rotten flu every other week. And, even though the active phase is truly horrible (throwing up is just no fun. even in gatorade technicolor. ESPECIALLY in gatorade technicolor.) I think the off weeks may be worse. Because there is the illusion of being healthy, and productive, and capable. But it is really only an illusion. I am easily overtired, quickly overwhelmed, and just don't have the focus that I need to do intellectual work. But I worry, is it because I haven't tried hard enough?
Sorry, dear readers. This post was meant as a 'hey, anyone who is thinking of being in Evanston tomorrow, I'll be around' notice, but quickly devolved into navel gazing.
I am really OK.
Just tired.
I know, I know, what I am doing takes energy, and time, and concentration. And is pretty much the best excuse ever. ("Pardon me, Miss Millman? Can I be excused from gym class? I have cancer.") And, every time I try to do something, I get tired. (I HATE being tired. Ask my mom.)
It would be easier, I think, if I either felt fine all the time or crappy all the time. But chemo feels like having a rotten flu every other week. And, even though the active phase is truly horrible (throwing up is just no fun. even in gatorade technicolor. ESPECIALLY in gatorade technicolor.) I think the off weeks may be worse. Because there is the illusion of being healthy, and productive, and capable. But it is really only an illusion. I am easily overtired, quickly overwhelmed, and just don't have the focus that I need to do intellectual work. But I worry, is it because I haven't tried hard enough?
Sorry, dear readers. This post was meant as a 'hey, anyone who is thinking of being in Evanston tomorrow, I'll be around' notice, but quickly devolved into navel gazing.
I am really OK.
Just tired.
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