I Got Found Out

The Cookie Discussion happened on Sunday night.

Generally an even better signal to the start of the holiday season than buying a Christmas tree, the Cookie Discussion involves dreaming and wanting and salivating and eagerness and all-in-all coveting. You know, the true meaning of Christmas.*

The Cookie Discussion has always intended to be a wish list for the wonderful family friend who sends dozens upon dozens of cookies to Alexandria as her gift to us. It's usually a fruitless (ba dum dum) discussion, because we end up requesting all the kinds she makes, and lots of them, so there's really nothing to "discuss" per say.

But not so this year. I mentioned before that I'm trying to cut way down the amount of flour, rice, corn and potatoes that I eat. That poses a problem for, oh, ALL Christmas cookies. (Except these, which Robert pointed out to me, much to Mike's chagrin. I'm not sure I'm going to go to this extreme, but I am going to attempt to make chocolate chip cookies and sugar cookies with almond flour instead of white flour.**)

So Barb brought down the list of available types of cookies, and reassurances from the family friend, Heather, that we could request even just a small number of cookies if we wanted a taste of one kind, but not have dozens laying around. Since she makes cookies for lots of people, she could just pack up, say, 4 of a particular kind for us.

The best part of this discussion was that it was quickly realized that even with said reassurances that it'd be okay if I didn't want a particular kind or quantity of cookie, my requested type and amounts spoke for, well, everyone. No one else, it seems, put in an "order." Instead, everyone just shares off of my order.

After cries of, "What do you mean you don't want buckeyes?!?!" and "Only a dozen chocolate chip?? They'll be gone in a day!" I realized that the correct answer to the question, "Maureen, how many of Heather's cookies do you want this year, and what kinds?"was, "All of them! Just like always!"***

But then the conversation took a bad turn.

Then everyone realized that I may have been, um, well, ahem, sort of holding out on them all these years.

See, I do put the cookies out for everyone during the holidays. Especially as a dessert that I don't have to fuss with or clean up, since we all know that I'd rather spend 8 hours on the main course and not so much on the baking part (so exacting, baking is).

But, well, I may not put out every cookie available on these nights.  After all, there's just so many.

So when Lauren suggested that we all state our favorite kinds and we put in one, large, Petron Family order to Heather, and I might have said that I requested triple chocolate chip cookies (where the third chocolate isn't white, it's FUDGE) and peanut butter sandwiched between Ritz crackers and dipped in chocolate (don't judge until you've tried them) and Lauren stated that she'd never heard of either of them. Let alone eaten them. Either of them. Ever.

Barb says, "What are you talking about, Heather sends them every year!"

Lauren says, "No, I don't think I've ever had them. Are they white chocolate chip?"

David agrees, "I'm not sure I've had them, either."

Barb says, "Sure! We have them... wait. I guess they're always in Maureen's kitchen, but... well, I don't know. Maureen, do you put them out?"

Oops.

I got found out.



*That was a joke, people.

** But with real sugar. I mean, come on.

*** I'm not as dumb as I look.

The Tree

I decided I wanted a real Christmas tree this year.

Luckily for me (and my husband, who begrudgingly agreed I could have one), our very good friends Kristin and Robert have an annual exposition to the Wild, Wild West to secure The Perfect Tree. (Really west. Like, West Virginia-west.)

And because I have no problem inviting myself to all things Kristin and Robert, we tagged along. And brought the dog for good measure.

[Pause for dog update: the steroids are doing exactly what was expected, and they have shrunk the size of the tumor considerably. The tumor has turned a very, very angry-looking blood red/purple, but it's fairly small, especially compared to last week. The steroids, along with a high dose of pain medicine, have helped with the whole she-couldn't-sit-down thing, too. Goldie is, actually, downright jittery. She's WIDE AWAKE, which you know is not her usual state of being.]

Goldie ADORED the tree farm, as did we. She acted like she was on the hunt the entire time. I was having so much fun watching her that I didn't take any pictures of her running around. Just take my word for it.

I did snag this picture of the HUGE cows (what's with the caps today? not really sure) along the farm.

Objects in mirror are way bigger than they appear in this photo.

And Mike and Robert securing the two trees.

We thought ours was big. Then we saw their 12 foot monster. Ours looks like a dwarf!

But all lit up it's kinda nice.

Big enough for it's own name

Just when I got all cocky and posted that Goldie was doing so much better, now she's not.

Yesterday was so weird. That's the only way to put it. It shook us.

All was normal in the morning. I told Goldie for a walk, she ate, she followed me around as I did housework.

I noticed around 11 a.m. that she seemed to struggle a bit on the stairs. She slowed herself on the way down so that she was just kind of letting gravity take her from one step to the next. And going up, she lost her footing and slipped from a stair a few times. She was panting, heavily, constantly.

I also thought I started to notice... it. The tumor. Just from glancing at her. It has always been visible to the naked eye, but after that first finding of it, it shrunk a little and was less red.

She had a follow up appointment with the oncologist yesterday, and it took three attempts for her to walk up the steps to the trunk of the SUV.

In the waiting room, the tumor was just THERE. And, I realized, she couldn't sit down. She'd start to lower her rear, and then stop and stand up. This happened repeatedly, then she realized that if she went down on her front paws first, she could kind of fall over on the opposite side of her body from where the tumor was.

Then she couldn't get up. Whether it was the tumor or her arthritis (we had to take her off her arthritis meds for the chemo), or that the huge tumor was between the legs that have arthritis and so it was a combo effect, she couldn't lift her hind.

We opted out of another oral chemo that is still in the testing phase with the FDA, and took her home with steroids. The hope is for the steroids to shock it into shrinkage, at least for a week, two, maybe three on the outside. But we're preparing ourselves that it won't.

Here are pictures of it from last night. Its big enough to get its own name, don't you think?

Isn't she still adorable, even with a mean, mean tumor?

She didn't even buy me dinner first

I am one of the thousands felt up by the TSA in the past week.

It was on the way out to Vegas, on Tuesday, the day after the stink really started when the guy left his cell phone camera running during the screening and then wasn't able to board because he told the agent that he was going to have them arrested if they "touched my junk."

Admittedly, I was going through security numb. Goldie had had two bouts of diarrhea during the morning walk, and I was just feeling miserable. I won't testify under oath that this is the exact order of things happening, because the morning is a fog.

I was a random pull, I think. I don't remember going through the medal detector, but did go through the x-ray one. Stood with my arms up, and I did wonder what the images looked like, what you could tell about my body (if you don't know, I'm kinda hot*). Then I also got the pat down. It could seriously be as simple as that the TSA was still training on the new rules -- I think they went into effect on Sunday or Monday of last week. I do remember that there was instruction from one agent to the one that did the pat down on, "Now make sure you have all her bags; now tell her what you're going to do; now tell her we can go to a private screening area..."

It just... wasn't a big deal. It was definitely touching. Twice. (They go over every part two times.) But it's so analytical. It's done by same gender. I don't think the TSA agent was enjoying it all the much, either.

It doesn't seem like that much to give up, for safer skies.

But it also doesn't seem like that hard to bypass. It doesn't seem like it does much of anything. It's kind of like drinking a Diet Coke while eating a Big Mac and fries. You can say you did something... but you're still gonna get fat.

I certainly don't understand the huge outcry. I would bet that those doing the out-crying haven't been on a plane in years. They are probably showing up with full tubes of toothpaste and bottles of shampoo, and still think the airlines serve meals in coach. They have on sweats to be "comfortable" during their 2.5 hour flight, sneakers that need to be unlaced, and left coins in their pockets. Most likely they've booked the flight months in advance, and are at the airport with three hours to spare so they can afford to spend one hour of it waiting in security lines held up by others with similar unfounded indignation.

They most certainly don't follow George Clooney's advice in Up in the Air.**

*I'm kidding, people

** Bonus points for the first person to put his advice in the comments.

Viro's Wedding

Before we break from the doggie news to update you on the whirlwind week I just had, I'll give you the good news that she's doing really, really well. The chemo seems to have worked it's way out of her system, she has her and her energy back. Yay!!!

It's Sunday night, after a crazy week of Las Vegas with Aussies and the Asian Kardashian sisters (Vi's cousins), the stress of a wedding, and a beautiful bride.

I'm not even sure where to start, and I don't want to bore you with a play-by-play. The highlights really did involve the people. The Aussies (and one Kiwi!) were fantastic. So nice, and so much fun. Just up for anything.

Vi's cousin's -- whom I dubbed the Asian Kardashian sisters -- were unreal. They were so spectacularly beautiful that the bachelorette night was an experience like none I've ever had. Club promoters basically followed them around like puppies, begging them to come to this club or that club... free table service here... free drinks there... moved to a higher-visibility table at this place... it was unreal. (The icing on the cake was how incredibly nice they were, too.)

Thunder from Down Under (she was marrying an Australian, remember!) was awful. It was beyond awful. The theater was so small, and so cheap, and it was so.... ew. We actually ended up walking out early, if you can believe that at a bachelorette party!

The next day entire group was pooped (the guys hadn't gotten back from their night out until 9:30 that morning), but we gathered our strength and went on a scavenger hunt on the Strip. Mike and I created it, thinking up items all up and down Las Vegas Boulevard. We broke into 5 teams, and I won't even attempt to describe the fun that we had. Talk about a competitive group. And so many of them hadn't ever been to Vegas before, so this was definitely the way to see as much as you could in 2.5 hours.

One item on the scavenger hunt list was to find a man dressed as a woman. Here's Santa in the store window of Ted Baker in the Caesar Forum shops.

A bit of a stressful drive on Friday back to LA, because everyone hit traffic and it took longer than expected. But a quick rehearsal (seriously, the church lady much have had a hot date), a delicious dinner, and at least I was finally in bed by midnight for the first time that week.

Vi and Robin by the Rolls

Did I get done up on Saturday. I have never had as much makeup on as was applied to my face for this wedding. Fake eyelashes, people. Caked on foundation. About 75 bobby pins holding up my hair.

It was awesome.

I had to snap this to record the unbelievable amount of makeup I had on. And fake lashes! Haha! I think a monster was created!

Seriously, it surprised me how much fun it was to be so dolled up. Besides being about 50 pounds heavier than them, I fit right in with the Asian Kardashians. (They changed between the wedding and the reception. To coordinating outfits. Not kidding.)

It was about the most active wedding reception I've ever been to. A photo booth. A caption contest for a funny picture of the couple. A musical-chairs type scavenger hunt. A choreographed Bollywood dance. A serenade by the groom to the bride of a song he wrote. Who needs dinner and dancing? This was entertaining!

The Bollywood dance... from my position behind the dancers.

I tried to catch the dance from the front but only got the very end!

I can't wait to get some photos (I didn't take any! It was so hectic and crazy and so much going on the entire time, that all I have are a few photos of Vi getting her hair and makeup done). I'm hoping there will be some FB uploads, or that the photographer moves quickly to post some up. (Speaking of, the photographer was out of this world. Here are Vi and Robin's engagement pics. I CAN'T WAIT for the wedding pictures.)

The Dog and the Gold Lion

[I started this post on Tuesday night and never finished it...  I think I fell asleep or just plain lost the energy! Posting today to bring you slightly up to speed... oh! and the "gold lion" in the title is a reference to the MGM Grand.]

We've gone from one end to the other with Goldie.

Literally.

I picked her up last night and she was so sad and so tired. The dog didn't want to eat. Clearly, she was sick.

We're also keeping her quarantined, so she looks at us like, "Why are you punishing me? I just feel so sick!" We pulled up the rug on the first level, so if we're down there, she can only be in the hallway. On the second floor, just the kitchen. And on the third floor, the bathroom. The doors are open, with just a gate or something, so she can see us. Still, she knows she's locked out.

And I'm joining her in her miserableness because now I'm not there. I can't believe I'm typing this, because I can't quite believe it's happening, but I'm in Las Vegas. I know it might not be unusual for people to cry on the plane leaving Las Vegas, but I'm not sure many people have cried on the plane going to Las Vegas.

It's Vi and Robin's bachelorette/ bachelor party, followed immediately by their wedding on Saturday. Mike sacrificed the trip and stayed home with Goldie, and I am miserable about leaving her, and burdening him with her care. I know he'll do great, I just feel bad dumping it all on him. I hope she pulls out of this quickly since we stopped the chemo.

Here's a secret

All week, every time someone asked me what I did, I told them I had my own small business. That was kinda cool.

Sick as a Dog

That would be Goldie. Sick as a dog. And a little bit sicker.

I'll spare you the details and just tell you that after her seventh time vomiting yesterday, we took her to the doggie ER and admitted her overnight. She was so weak and dehydrated.

The oncologist doesn't work Monday's, and that's fine because we certainly wouldn't have been giving her any more chemo today (she had a treatment, which is three pills, on Friday and again on Sunday). I don't think lessening the dosage is an option here, in my non-medical degree opinion, because this reaction was so violent. Remember, our point here with this chemo was never for it to be curative. It was to give a better quality of life for longer. Vomiting is not a good quality of life.


I just got the call that they expect to release her around 4:30 today.

Another Goldie Post

I'm sure sometime soon I'll write a non-Goldie post. When something non-Goldie happens in my life, perhaps.

And I'll refrain in this post to tell you that I've been up for 4 hours already this Sunday morning because she's been puking.

Ok, so I told you. I'll refrain from telling you how gross it is.

I will tell you that I'm not entirely sure the sickness is due to the medicine. It could very well be due to... us. Or, more accurately, to our over-feeding her yesterday.

Bobby, Kristy, Mike and I went out to The Winery at La Grange yesterday afternoon to take advantage of the unbelievable weather. They brought their two dogs, who are awesome, and we basically just hung in the sun.

Well, hung in the sun and stuffed Goldie with bones, and rawhide, and cheese, and bread, and anything else we felt like feeding her. Which could be what I'm paying for right now. Ick.

Cute pictures instead!

This is Lucy, who cracks me up.

Drugs -- the Serious Kind

We learned some more information yesterday, but none to change our course of action.

(Oh, good morning. I hope you're enjoying your coffee and bagel, and sorry to bring this heavy into it.)

We learned that this tumor is actually a new one. Not the same one from the summer. That still doesn't make me feel better, because it tells me she has a tendency to get these -- remove this one, when does the next one come?

We also learned that this tumor was not only in her lymph node, it had effaced it -- which, according to Wikipedia, is "near obliteration of a tissue." Basically, there is no more lymph node. It's all tumor.

To quote Jenelle, this tumor is angry.

We told the oncologist that we didn't want to do the surgery and chemo, and we just wanted to focus on quality of life at this point. He understood, but urged us to consider another option -- essentially, a do-it-at-home chemo.

The doc had told us about this drug, Palladia. He hadn't recommended it at the beginning because surgery and infusion chemo had a better chance at the longest survival, if it didn't spread, and if no new ones came up.

But if curing wasn't our goal -- because we just don't believe that is going to happen -- nor was exhausting all options overlooking quality of life decisions, then Palladia would give us the next best stop gap.

The links to the news announcement of Palladia, the first canine cancer treatment in the U.S., talk about it being a treatment that could lead to eradication. We don't have that hope. But it will hopefully shrink the tumor a little, maybe slow the progression. It could give us a couple of months, instead of a couple of weeks gone untreated.

I went in today to pick up the Palladia tablets for home treatment.

This stuff is Serious. Shit.

Not only is the Palladia itself 3 separate pills, but there is also the anti-nausea meds, anti-diarrhea meds, and still the Benadryl.

But those 3 Palladia pills? Have you ever seen those advertisements on TV that talk about how women shouldn't handle the drugs? That you need to keep them away from children and pets? These are those kind of pills.

We were actually issued gloves for giving her the pills, and to put on, in addition to the baggie, when picking up after her.

I had to wear gloves to give my puppy pills. That's Scary. Shit.

At the first sign of her have nausea (and by first sign, I mean actually puking, since she can't really tell me she feels nauseous), or diarrhea, we'll at the least decrease the dosage, and possibly stop all together.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some treats to give someone.

The Decisions

The roller coaster ride of Goldie's cancer diagnosis continued yesterday. We went from words of warning over the summer that it would be very bad if it came back, to reassurances on Monday that it might not be, to fears confirmed from an oncologist on Wednesday.

We took Goldie to the Hope Center for Advanced Veterinary Medicine in Vienna. The morning didn't start off very well, when I had it in my head that the appointment was at 10:30 a.m., and it was really at 10:00. I recognized the error at 9:30 a.m., rushed out the door, and drove straight into traffic.

It'd be safe to say I was a bit emotional anyway heading to the specialist and, well, I'm just glad there aren't hidden cameras in the car to see that I actually broke down in tears sitting there. And this was before I even knew anything.

The Hope Center was very gracious, and even though I was 10 minutes late, I had the full attention of two vets for several hours throughout the day. Those hours were agonizing, as we ordered tests, heard about options, was told several times by the oncologist that (while he supported whatever decision we made), his recommendation was surgery followed by chemotherapy.

We're still waiting for the results of the biopsy, which we should get today, but the cancer metastasized. It is most likely the same cancer from the summer, and even though earlier ultrasounds and chest xrays and looking at the tumor margins came out clear, we missed something.

And now it's in her lymph node on the left side of her groin. The lymph node part is a second reason (in addition to the histamine/ allergic reaction) that it grew so large, so fast.

Because it has already taken over one lymph node, it is highly likely to quickly spread to other parts of the abdomen, and internal organs. We had an ultrasound done yesterday to see if it had already, and that came back inconclusive. A huge, frustrating, yellow light. There was marbling in the spleen and liver, but the oncologist couldn't be sure if the marbling was cancer for certain unless we did a biopsy of the spleen.

The oncologist wants to do surgery to "debulk" the mass -- get that big chunk out. But he in no way thinks that would be "curative," as we had hoped the removal over the summer would be. Since it's in the lymph nodes, even surgery would need to be followed by several months of chemotherapy (once weekly IV infusions for her) to try to eradicate it.

And that's what we just kept getting hung up on. Nothing was curative. Nothing was even a high likelihood of being curative. He kept saying he thought we could get a head of it, and give her several more months, if no new tumors grew.

But there are so many if's and assumptions in his statements that we just aren't able to make. Goldie is, declining. It started with the funny story of the vet saying last year that Goldie "just wasn't applying herself." Then the arthritis. The hearing loss. (We won't even mention the tail.) That she literally sits down if we're out walking her longer than 25 minutes, even if that 25 minutes is at a snail's pace.

We thought we had cured the cancer the first time. But it came back. And it came back in a really bad place, manifesting itself very aggressively.

She was so miserable after the last surgery, the follow up care, the trips to the vet and the poking and prodding. Most of you know her demeanor. You can do anything to her, poking and needles and pulling her ears, and she just lays there with her big, sad eyes. Yesterday, after the ultrasound and biopsy, when they asked me if I wanted to run a test on a sample of the spleen to see if the marbling was cancer, they said they'd have to put her under because she had become so agitated with the technicians with their earlier tests.

Put Goldie under, just for that? It is so unlike her to get agitated with them just for the ultrasound and shaving, that she clearly is scared and upset. 

I can't bare putting her through another surgery, and then taking her in for weekly treatments. She doesn't understand it all. You know?

Every time I think about the decision, I cry. But every time I think about putting her through surgery, the recovery, the e-collar, the trips to the vet for chemo, the needles, the side effects, my entire chest swells up and I can't breath.

When I think about just letting her ... be ... my chest releases.

We are still waiting for the biopsy results. At this point, it could be another yellow light (showing that it may not be related to the summer tumor, that it's a whole new tumor, but still -- a tumor, in the lymph nodes), or it could definitively confirm that it's the same cancer, showing a propensity to metastasize and further confirming in our minds that treatment is only going to decrease the quality of the time she has left with us.

But regardless of the results, and after endless crying and hugging and back and forth, we've made our decision. Fill her with love and treats, let her sleep on the bed, take her with us everywhere we can, and try to make her as happy and comfortable as possible.

Thanks

Thanks, everyone, for your well-wishes and calls.

We don't know anything more, except that since we found the tumor on Friday, Goldie has been... normal.

She's totally unaffected by it, not interested in it one bit. No change in appetite (still huge), no change in energy level (still lazy), and only a slight increase in sleepiness, likely due to the 6 Benadryl she's eating each day.

The Benadryl also had the hoped-for effect of reducing the swelling around the tumor slightly. It isn't as red and bruised looking.

I leave in 30 minutes for an oncologist appointment with her. It's completely fact-finding, and we just want so many questions answered.

Unfortunately for Goldie, in preparation for the appointment, and the possible chance that they'll want to do an x-ray or scan while we're there, she wasn't supposed to eat this morning.

Now, YOU try to tell her that she doesn't get breakfast, especially when she's looking at you with those, "But I have cancer!" eyes. I may have given her a half cup (of her cup and half) when we got up at 5. She'd have over 5 hours to digest it, after all...

Wish us luck!

I Fucking Hate Cancer

Sorry for the language in this family-friendly blog, but, well, deal with it.

Because I fucking hate cancer.

Goldie's is back. Freakin' A.

We have been diligent about checking for another tumor growth. Mike, even more than me, gives her complete rub downs at least once a day -- which you can imagine she absolutely adores.

So imagine our surprise when we came home Friday night after the Caps game, and there was one. motherf&%*ing. huge. tumor.

I had been gone for several hours. That's it. I was home all day Friday. I don't remember giving her a complete tummy rub on Friday, but I had pet her, and walked her, and watched as she lay spread out in the kitchen while I worked.

And yet, there it was.

I had hoped (a bad hope, I know) on Friday night that maybe it was just really, really bad constipation. I took her out, and she did her business -- no issues.

We decided to sleep on it. Maybe Saturday morning she'd get cleared out.

Only not only was it still there Saturday morning, it had gotten slightly bigger, and redder (the vet later called this "bruising" due to slight internal bleeding around the tumor).

It's probably a little smaller than a baseball. A racquetball ball size.  Here, I'm trying to put my hand around it to show the size:

We went to the vet, they did a quick biopsy, and confirmed our worst fear. The cancer is back.

If you recall from this summer, what Goldie had was a mast cell tumor. Here's more about mast cell tumors (I admit to not knowing the background of this website, but everything this site said when I read it over the summer was seconded by our vet, so I think it's a pretty good summary if you're interested).

Goldie had a high grade 2 -- they thought the cancer was confined to the tumor, but the cells in the tumor were extremely active. They removed the tumor, tests showed they got good margins and x-rays showed no more cancer.

But we were warned. High grade 2 was bad, with a likelihood of it coming back. And if it came back, that'd be bad. Plus, she didn't handle the surgery too well. It took her several days to recover fully from the anesthesia, and she was in a lot of pain. She was confused. It was awful.

When we discovered that it was the cancer again on Saturday, we took her home. The vet who saw her (not our usual ... who unfortunately is out of town until the 22nd!!!) recommended keeping her overnight. We said, "why?" She said so they could observe it, and then if we decided to do surgical removal, they could get the tests and meds going for that.

We leashed her up and headed out.

The vet is a scary place. I know she stays in a crate when she's in the back, and I know she hates it. We didn't think there was a need for that kind of stress just so they could observe it.

Especially since we had a fun day planned for her over at Bobby and Kristy's, with their two dogs and huge back yard. No. She has cancer. Let her have some fun.

Not to mention... the surgery. That was a big question. One we had pretty much answered in our minds that we didn't want to have it.

I made an appointment for Monday with our second-favorite vet to find out more about what this could mean. The size, the growth, what happens if we don't remove it. Is this a new tumor or did the one from the summer metastasize? Does the answer to that question even matter? Will this spread? If we don't treat, will it be a fast deterioration, or can she live with the tumor for months, even a year?

So we went to the vet today, and sat for over an hour past our appointment date to see the vet. Has never happened at this animal hospital before, but of course it would happen today.

The vet comes in and almost immediately announces, "I don't really know much about mast cell cancer, so I think you need to seen an oncologist to answer any questions you have."

And basically that was the extent of the conversation, though over the next 30 minutes we asked our questions in various ways, and she told stories of the one time she had treated a mast cell tumor before.

She also, though, had these vastly different assumptions about the tumor than we had going in. And I don't know if it's just different vets, and their different bed side manners, or that our "usual" vet also happens to be a surgeon, or what. But while our usual vet stressed the high grade part of high grade 2 tumor this summer, and how bad that was, the vet today kept referring to it as "a 2 -- at least it wasn't a 3."

She also kept going on about the possibility (and she stressed possibility, saying she didn't know what treatment there was for a mast cell other than surgery) of drugs that could shrink it -- not radiation, just plain old pills. She even thinks that racquetball sized tumor may shrink with Benadryl... Benadryl! ... which only makes sense because of all we now know about mast cells and that they cause a natural histamine release in the dog.

I felt like today's meeting was a huge yellow light, and I couldn't help but leave frustrated. Why couldn't the vet on Saturday have said from the start that with the recurrence of the tumor, it was outside the scope of the practice's expertise?

The vet today did instill in us that a day... a week... even a month wouldn't make much difference in the treatment option of the tumors, especially if we were already leaning toward non-invasive means. (Again, different from several months ago, when upon finding the tumor, we were told to schedule the next possible surgery date.) That was reassuring if only because we have a planned trip next week to Las Vegas and LA for a wedding that suddenly became seriously in peril.

Tomorrow I begin trying to make an appointment with an oncologist.

I fucking hate cancer.

What's the bean about chili?

I don't know if you have strong feelings about beans in your chili.

It seems some people do, and by "some people," I mean those of the Texas variety.

In no means have I done extensive research on the topic, but a quick Internet search for "beanless chili" or "no bean chili" and instead of getting actual recipes, you get many a rant that if it has beans, it isn't chili. So "no bean chili" is just plain redundant.

I wasn't setting out to make pure Texas chili when I began my quick Google search this morning. Instead, I was looking for inspiration when Mike asked for chili for dinner tonight... only, can we not have beans in it, please?

Little did he know, he has an entire state backing up his preference.

As most cooking in my kitchen goes, I searched through a few sites, opened up The Joy of Cooking, and declared, "these are all basically the same... some meat, some onion, some of this spice, some of that spice..." and I closed my MacBook, ready to begin cooking.

Mike says, dubiously, because he hates this about my cooking, "so, you're going to, um, just wing it?"

"Yup."

And he just turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

See, his issue isn't the winging it per say. He generally enjoys what I make. What he hates is that I have a problem replicating meals exactly. If he loved something, for example. I can't make it again, exactly like the first time. Because, frankly, I have no idea what I put in it the first time. I winged it, after all.

His favorite example of this was a batch of Oatmeal Chocolate Chip cookies, which he insists were the best ever... and no other batch has ever come close. Don't ask me what I put in them.

So to make him happy, below is my recipe for today's chili. It's still just completely winging it, but at least these are the ingredients and amounts that I used.

Mo's No Bean Chili

1 pound ground beef (87/13)
1 pound ground chicken

Brown each of those separately in a cast iron pot. Remove.

1 large yellow onion, diced
10 cloves garlic, minced

Soften in the same pot that the meat came out of. Drain all the meat liquid first, and you might need to add some oil back into the pot.  After softened, add the meat back in.

2 tbsp chili powder
2 tbsp paprika
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp ground cayenne pepper
1 tsp salt
1 tsp dried oregano
1 15 oz can tomato sauce
2 cups beef stock

Stir into the pot on top of the meat and onion mixture. Bring to a boil, then lower the temp to simmer for an hour.

I was going to post up a picture, but, in the case of chili, pictures don't really do it justice. Just trust me. It was goooooood....

And, to throw a bone (pun intended) at those non-meat eaters of this blog, here's a mid-morning nap snapshot. I took it while laying on the floor after doing some ab work.

Halloween Pics

Who doesn't like Halloween pics??

Many thanks to the Keelings for an incredible party, delicious food, and perfect decor!

 Mike and I dressed up.

My favorite accessory... it's a cat AND a purse.

Melissa, the "beat" reporter.

Melissa and her family, and their incredible pumpkin carving skills. Melissa did the ET by hand... and brought it as a house gift for a very impressed Kristin. 

Back from Hotlanta

[I interrupt even the starting of this post to nag my friends about why I haven't seen pictures from Halloween yet. Hello!! I was counting on you! Please send. Thank you.]

I'm back from Hotlanta, and don't exactly know my next gig. I have a lot of options out there, one that will keep bringing in the funds immediately and three that could be awesome, I'm self-employed forever, type gigs.

Maybe I should back up.

The remaining days organizing the canvassing effort in Atlanta went way better than the first two. I continued to be impressed by the group, they were dedicated, hard workers, and I felt like the system was under control.

Ok, ok, there were a few snafus, but nothing I should write about here. Buy me a glass of wine and I'll spill.

Unfortunately, when it was all said and done, the campaign lost 47% to 53%.

I was done "working" yesterday around 2 p.m. but stayed for the results party. I needn't have done that. I don't want to spread this too far, but I've been to two election results parties after having worked on campaigns and both were... well... depressing.

But I slept for SEVEN hours last night. That's right! SEVEN!!!! I only had to skip my workout to do it.

Holy hell, I'm tired.

I'm tired and I'm trying to decide what's next. I think one of the bonuses of being self-employed is that after this marathon run these past 3 weeks, I can just... stop. Catch up on my Google reader. Go to the store. Work out. Write on my blog. See some of you!!!! You know, just be.

The down side is that any day not working is a day not getting paid.

The upside to that is I never expected be be billing full-time for the past month, so I feel like it's ok to have a few un-billed days. Ya know?

Especially because the firm that got me involved in the rally and the canvassing has ongoing work that I can dig into. Nothing as take-control, project-oriented as the rally or canvassing, just plain old, stuff that needs to get done. Things like writing news summaries for coverage of their issue.

The guy who got me all involved with this group and I were talking about all of this on Tuesday afternoon, and all I could do was stare at his lips as they were moving and think, "Can't we just talk about this on Monday..."

So if you don't mind, I'm going to have a glass of wine, watch my DVR until I go blind, and think about it all on Monday.