Recently I noticed my blackberry randomly dumps emails from my inbox. Upon doing a search on The Google I realized it was because I had too many pictures stored in my phone. Okay. Fine. I downloaded them into a folder on my computer, erased them from my phone and promptly began filling up the memory with more pics. Just yesterday my blackberry reminded my memory was full again by getting rid of all of my emails so I began the process of emptying the pictures once more. When I did, I looked for the first time at the folder I had created earlier this year with previous photos in it. And although the photos themselves are nothing to brag about – grainy and sometimes out of focus – everyone of them has a good story behind it. And I realized, these pictures are usually the pics I take on impulse. When something strikes me as funny or significant. They are my "between the picture" pictures … the ones where life really happens.
Arizona 3 Day – 2008.
Opening ceremonies was held down in this little valley. And that little valley got right freezing cold that morning. However, as ceremonies started, the sun came up and began to warm the crowd, the ground and shine beautifully –RIGHT INTO MY EYES. I did the majority of the opening ceremonies in the most aggressive squint of my life. This picture I took immediately after I ended my opening speech as participants are making their way out onto the route. The STAFF member in the photo is my stage manager, LaLa, who isn't nearly as holy as she appears in this snapshot.
Medical Chart for Jenne Fromm – 2008.
Years ago I worked for a physician who had been in practice for decades and treated entire families and generations. Because he'd been in practice so long, he had stacks and stacks of medical charts. Some of those charts were thick as family bibles, coming apart at the binding and sporting years and years of yellowing, drying and peeling scotch tape. I was always fascinated by the size of some of the charts that held those individuals' medical records. There was something beautiful about those tattered and torn charts and all the vulnerabilities they held. Sometimes a chart got so large, we had to write "1 of 2" on it and start a new chart, "2 of 2". And still other times we had to go back and scratch out the 2s, change them to 3s and start a third chart. It made sense that those charts were so large, after all, Dr. Anderson had been treating some of those patients for 30 years or more. This is my chart at the oncologist's office. This chart was started a mere 2 ½ years ago. Tattered. Torn. Beat up. Stuffed full of information – some good, some not so good. Still functioning but a little worse for the wear. There is something beautiful about that.
Steve after walking 60 miles in the San Diego 3 Day without training.
Walking 60 miles is no easy feat (arr) even IF you've done all the training. The Hub walked with me this past year without doing the training. The Hub is no schmuck. He is fit as a fiddle but even a fiddle should train to be on their feets walking and walking and walking for hours and hours and hours. If for no other reason than to prepare your toes for the beating they are going to take. By the end of the third day, every single toe of his (and eight of mine for good measure) was individually wrapped. The toe wrapping was part prevention, part blister care and part art. Wrapping your toes is sort of like eating at a buffet or plucking your eyebrows, you never know when to stop – and the results can be just as upsetting. Each little corner of the tape can rub. So you tape the corner. And then the corner of that piece of tape can rub. So, you know, you have to tape that. And if you're not careful, you wind up with tape up to your tits. Careful though, that tape under your arm can rub. Anyway, back to this pic. I love it because I'm so proud of him for walking that event with me and so thankful he supports me in such practical ways.
Sign in a Wendy's window – or should I say "Sign".
I have a love for misused quote marks. In fact, I like to collect pictures like these of quote marks used incorrectly. Just as a review, quote marks are to either a) quote someone or b) indicate that the word or phrase isn't being used literally. So in this case, unless "Caution" is something we can attribute to Shakespeare or Abe Lincoln we have to assume this Wendy's doesn't really want you to be cautious. Just kinda sorta. You know, use "caution" … not real caution, just some sort of behavior that is <rolling eyes and nudging> caution-like <wink wink>. My favorite example of misused quote marks was at my local grocery one week when the "Cheese" was on sale. That's what the sign said, SALE TODAY – "CHEESE". Hmmm … I don't think I'll have some of your "cheese". Thanks!
The Pink Nose of The Yellow Dog. I end up with a lot of these pictures. This one is on the ottoman.
On my lap while I'm watching TV
Blocking my way into the kitchen.
On my lap under the table while I'm eating dinner
On the bed while I'm (trying to be) asleep. There is just something so wonderfully pitiful about that pink nose. It's irresistible. I can't help but take pictures of it.
Turkey and avocado sandwich from room service at The Ritz Carlton in Dallas Texas.
Seriously … this sandwich. It was almost worth the thirty dollars I spent on it. I'm a big fan of room service. There are many, many things to love about someone showing up at your door with a meal. One of my very favorite things about room service is the miniature everythings … the little salt and pepper shakers, the tiny little ketchup bottle, the itty bitty diet coke – A D O R A B L E! All of the teeny tinies on my tray this day only made my sandwich look EVEN BIGGER! I sat there for a good 3 minutes pretending all the accessories were normal sized and I was a giant. Then I snapped a photo so I would never forget the joy of a fat pile of turkey. The fun and games all ended when I couldn't get my mouth around those layers of bacon, avo and poultry. I know … that's a big sandwich.
Jenne and Steve at Jalapenos.
This picture cracks me up. If you didn't know what was going on, you'd think it is almost sad. In a way, it has an artsy feel I'm looking up and laughing and Steve is looking down and pensive. It's almost like he's been caught in a moment of deep reflection or maybe prayer. Actually, it's none of those things, in reality, he's just busy dipping a chip into some cheese dip. He loves that dip. So much so that he couldn't stop long enough for me to snap a pic. Oh cheese dip, you are a harsh mistress.
The Cheese Dip. (And, by the way, the reason I gained 7 pounds in the month of December)
At Blue Koi – my favorite restaurant.
This picture confuses me. I'm not sure why I took it or why I kept it. There's nothing special about it that I can see … well other than the child growing out of my head. And I can't recall anything in particular happening on this day. That's not a new scarf and I didn't get a haircut (both perfectly valid "between the pictures" reason to snap a photo) so I don't know. But I thought I'd include it because it is, after all, a really great restaurant. When toddlers aren't tumoring out yer noggin.
Jenne on New Year's Eve posing only so Steve could snap a picture of the loud-mouthed broad behind us.
Oh man, see? This is why I take pictures because if I hadn't had this snapshot I would have forgotten all about that bossy, bitchy completely ball-busting woman having dinner with (what I thought must have been her child but found out was) her p-whipped husband. She was loud enough and annoying enough that The Hub and I stopped having our conversation and started having hers. I started repeating everything she said. I would have repeated his side of the conversation too – but he didn't have one. In fact, in the entire time we were there, I didn't hear him say ONE SINGLE SOLITARY THING. Meanwhile she picked at him and criticized him and sarcastically challenged him and told him what to order and reminded him what he liked and didn't like and made comments about his table manners and on and on and on and on. I felt bad for that poor sap for days. I hope for his sake she's dynamite in the sack. Or something.
Man babysitting his chicken – and no, that's not a euphemism for anything.
This was taken at Jalapenos – our favorite Mexican restaurant … a little TOO favorite in fact. We've become quite the regulars and have had to modify a little saying of ours, "just because you Mexi-CAN, doesn't mean you Mexi-SHOULD." Anyway, one night as we were propping up the bar this guy came in. He plopped down on a stool and plopped a bag next to himself on the other stool. It was sort of odd the way he gave a seat to his bag. And eventually – after he'd consumed a few beers and I'd consumed a few margaritas, I looked closer to see what was in the bag. It was a chicken. No … not a chicken sandwich. A chicken. A chicken he'd purchased at the grocery across the street. Odd enough to bring your chicken out for a drink but what really got me was every time he got up to go to the bathroom, …. HE TOOK THE CHICKEN WITH HIM. And he got up a lot. I kept thinking he was leaving but then he'd come back! Finally I sent The Hub after him because I just had to know two things 1) was he actually going to the bathroom and 2) did the chicken join him in the stall. The answers are 1) yes and 2) oh hell yes. And that, my friends, is completely fanTAStic. Which, if I remember correctly, I actually shouted out loud when The Hub confirmed my suspicions.
And that brings me to the end of the blackberry pictures.
For now.
That pink nosed puppy is adorable!!!
Posted by: Suzy | March 06, 2009 at 11:26 AM
I love the pictures of you because it shows me I'll eventually return to my "normal" self. No more moon face, no more weird, patchy hair. My chemo (for Hodgkin's) ended in December and, while I was far from completely bald, had terribly awkward patches on the top of my head like a 50-year old man. Yes, I had an awesome comb-over. Now those patches have grown in and my hair stylist says the new hair growth is doing great things for my volume, pushing up the older roots. Ha, nice try, lady.
Anyway, you look absolutely fantastic and I just had to share that with you. I know it's been a long time since your chemo, but I also know that it's never long enough, that that memory will always be with you. I can see just by looking at your smile that you cherish life so much; and even though there are rough patches, it's definitely better than where you used to be.
Posted by: Paige | March 10, 2009 at 09:12 AM