Good news 'bad news'

Regarding the bad news in the headline, I put it in quotes because it is not really bad. Since I have reported actual bad news in the past, I thought I should begin with that caveat.

First, for the good news:

#1. I had a great day Thursday in my first substitute teacher role in an adult literacy program. As a volunteer at the Literacy Project in Northampton, I felt like I knew enough to transition into a paid role. Freelancing, especially coming into it so late in the game, is an on-again off-again source of income. I am on the sub list for the Literacy Project's locations in Western Massachusetts and for the Valley Opportunity Council in Chicopee, which is where I led my first class on Thursday.

I was a little nervous, but the students were fantastic, helping me out and showing me the routine. We changed declarative sentences into questions, read a book they already knew, focusing on expression and meaning, and did some word puzzles. It was a beginning level Adult Basic Education course like the one in which I have been volunteering, so I felt comfortable as soon as we got going. As is the case in Northampton, I found there is always something to learn from these students, who want to be there, as opposed to subbing in a public school...well, we all remember what it was like to be a kid in a class being led by a poor sub.

#2. Maddie had her weigh-in at doggie weight-watchers, a.k.a. The Valley Veterinary Clinic. She lost five pounds in a few weeks. That's about what I guessed because her breathing had returned to normal. The vet wants her to get back to 60 pounds, meaning she has seven to go. The tech who weighted her said to let up on her at the holidays.

#3. Tonight is the long-awaited performance of The Moth MainStage at the Academy of Music. I remembered my friend Emily talking about The Moth coming to Pittsburgh and saying how interesting it is to hear people tell their stories. You can also hear them on public radio on The Moth Radio Hour. When I got an email from New England Public Radio in August saying that tickets were on sale and would sell out quickly, I went to the site immediately and saw it was 80 percent sold out.

I got two tickets, forgot about it, then panicked when I couldn't locate my records, which is unusual because I usually print everything out and put it in a special place. Luckily, the Academy of Music box office person said I was all set and could get the tickets at Will Call.

#4. Last night I went to the tennis mixer in Enfield. It is a little late to go that far, but I like doing it once a month. The tennis is always fun, the people are nice, and the pizza is good.

#5. I made light and fluffy waffles this morning by searching for an easy waffle recipe and getting this one from All Recipes and bringing out my old waffle iron. (Every recipe I make has to begin with the word "easy." Hence, the easy banana bread I made earlier this week when I noticed I had four overripe bananas.)

OK, so, as for the 'bad' news: The mice are back...dancing through my kitchen drawers.

I heard one in my walls yesterday morning and came down to find it had left some presents in the silverware drawer. A post on Facebook drew some interesting suggestions, such as, learn to like cats, which is impractical since Joe and I are allergic. A couple of people suggested peppermint. I need to get some mouse traps.

Yesterday I put all the silverware through the dishwasher and cleaned out the drawer. Today when I went to look for my measuring cups I saw that that the mouse, or mice, went into the big drawer containing spatulas, large spoons, etc. It will have to be emptied out an cleaned.

On another topic, when I was telling Katie last night about my "dilemma" about whether to choose the Ludlow pizza mixer (closer but not enough tennis) and the Enfield mixer (a little too far but more tennis), I summarized with letters that stand for this kind of problem, and the problem with the mice: FWP.  First World Problems, all.

Bummed, but in a First World kind of way

I tried to do something good for myself and ended up doing something bad.

Not Bad with a capital B, just really badly annoying.

I put on my boot like I am supposed to do and then although I had a lot of things going on, I sat down for a brief meditation that I am trying to do every day. I found one that I like on line – free guided meditations offered by the UCLA  Mindful Awareness Research Center – and so I clicked on a 12-minute option and settled in.

When I opened my eyes in the semi-dark room I was not entirely with it. I got up, took one step, and...CRUNCH...I stepped on my glasses that I love so much and that have seen me through thick and thin. They broke in half.

I have been so careful with them, keeping track of them through all my hospitalizations, and I really have no idea why I put them on the floor. They mean something to me. Plus I get a lot of compliments on them and I love their look and feel.

Mark at Village Eye Care checked with the company to see if they make something similar, but all of the glasses are bigger now. The optometrist, Steven Markow, came out to see what was wrong. I remember buying them after my first transplant when I was so immunosuppressed that I had to wear a mask and gloves when trying them on. I couldn't see what I looked like, so he let me take a few home with me, and my friend Korby helped me pick.

Right now I am wearing my spare pair of wire-rimmed glasses through which I don't see as well.

Steven (I call him that because we are long-time acquaintances) said, "It's time for a change."

Me: "I don't want a change."

Him: "I guess you're a real New Englander."

No I just want the same glasses.

One of these days I hope to go back to contacts, but I am not supposed to do it while I am still on prednisone. I know, it is a First World Problem, and not such a big deal in the long run because I can afford a new pair. I placed the order yesterday, and honestly they don't look all that different.

In the meantime I might try some tape or sticky glue.

(Distant memory of sticky glue: little Joe finding it in the junk drawer and screaming, "Mom, I glued my fingers together!" Gotta be careful with that stuff.)

First world problem, real world problem

It turns out that I actually did not have a stress fracture, although when I saw my podiatrist today he said it was a good thing that I wore the boot because I was probably on the way to getting one, and catching it early nipped it in the bud.

When I went for a little test run a few days ago, my big toe really hurt, though. Even when I wasn't moving, I got shooting pains in it. So today I asked for, and got, a cortisone shot.

Dr. Wolf said I need to ice it and baby it for a couple of days, after which I can get back to tennis. I said I was disappointed because I thought I could play tomorrow.

As I was leaving, I shrugged and said, "First world problem, I guess."

He got a kick out of that and said he had never heard it. I hadn't either until Katie told me about it being a popular topic on the internet. I think I am going to email him this link that explains it. The examples of first world problems contrasting with real world problems can really make you stop and think.

Changing the topic now from feet to face, here is an update on the natural progression after the PDT. As expected, my skin is peeling, and I have to admit it is difficult to stop myself from helping it along. Katie has caught me fussing with the things on my skin and has said, "MOM, stop doing that," and so I need to internalize my daughter and keep my hands off my face.

It reminds me of the bad old days of getting so sunburned that my skin would peel off in sheets, which I thought was really cool and also a sign that tanning in earnest could begin. In addition to sunbathing, I was also a lifeguard, and that added to my sun exposure.

You might not think it when you look at me now, but my skin is actually fair. It darkened after chemotherapy, a process known as hyperpigmentation. In the off-season when I haven't been outside in the sun, sometimes people wonder if I've gone on a vacation.

They ask, "Where did you get that tan?"

It would definitely be a conversation stopper to say that I got it in the hospital during chemotherapy, so I make up some fabulous island destination.

Only kidding. Mostly I just shrug my shoulders and say that I don't really know.