Different Day. Thank God.

I have to use that old cliche - what a difference a day makes. I feel good, strong(ish) and with the exception of an hour or two of bad thoughts, I had a great day. An easy day with Bennett who is still getting over a cold. Pat came home early and took B to the park with BFF Avy. I had a few hours alone which I thought I would use to take a nap. I didn't need one, or my fear didn't want me to have one because all I did was lie there and think of scary scenarios.

I have to admit that I was online today. I was doing some surfing about canning (which I still want to do, but am banned from touching produce, so can't) and came upon an interesting site. As I was reading, it became clear the blogger's mom was in the midst of chemo and before I could look away, I was reading stats about life expectancy etc. It totally freaked me out. I am grateful for every day and I pray that I will read the archives of this blog when I am 80, but 2.4 years or 7.5 years or whatever this study said completely fed my fear's voice and that was that. I basically spent my nap time crying and worrying about Bennett liking her new mom better than me, or worse not remembering me at all. It was b. a. d. bad.

Yesterday, when I was prone all afternoon and talking to my mom, she told me I needed a project. I whined a lot about how the projects I used to do are not compelling and the sweater I started knitting last winter is going to be too big now, etc etc. Just thank your lucky stars you are not my mom, the conversation was pretty pathetic on my part. So...my mom sent me an encouraging e-mail and I have spent the evening knitting while watching Top Chef. I even repaired a sweater that a friend gave me to fix last year. Ahhhh, that feels good. I am definitely knitting tighter than I have in the past - pulling that yarn a little too hard while making a cap to cover what will be my shiny pate.

I thought I was going to miss the losing of the hair, but Pat informed me that I have a bald spot on the top of my head. Oh man. I knew the front was getting pretty thin, but a bald spot? I better knit fast! Now I just have to figure out what the markers will be for the big shave. How big a bald spot? How many bald spots? Just how thin and dead does my hair have to look before I can get the nerve to shave it? And why does it have to be in winter? I should have planned this better.

That's some painful irony there.

On that note, I will say goodnight. I will ask outright for prayers and good, right thoughts. I really need them tonight to chase the fear away. Together our voices and thoughts will drown out that wily, unwelcome fear and bring in the light.

You Got the C-A-N Right

This from my friend Julie after telling her that I had been thinking about starting a blog about CANning. But you get cancer instead. With maybe a little canning here and there. My sister Mary who lives in England and I used to email and call each other all the time about canning, but now we talk about, well, not canning.

I do vow to can two more things this year - hot peppers and pickled carrots. Let me assure you all that I started the year with lots of preserving. Two kinds of pickled ramps (wild leeks), rhubarb jam and relish, blueberry and raspberry jam, pickle relish and pickled green garlic. I wonder if wondering if I will be here next year to eat the pickles makes me not want to make them. I call those gallows thoughts. Of course I will be here, of course I will be eating and of course I will want to have toast with jam with Bennett. It's just the fear talking.

Fear is so sneaky and mean. I suggest avoiding it whenever possible.

As I write, there is a huge summer storm. The sky black, streaks of light and booming. Bennett calmly reading a book and Theo in the half-finished bedroom looking at what we need so she can magically do all the trim for us. Today she is my hero- willing to just do it all and be patient with me when I don't know what I want. I know what she does will be gorgeous.

Later tonight I will post photos from our aquarium trip.