My daughter takes piano lessons from a former parent; I had his daughter in fourth. Anyhow, towards the end of the summer, the parents were walking in our neighborhood and stopped by for a quick hello. They showed me pictures of their now, twenty seven year old daughter- the one I had when she was ten.

In any event, since it is Thanksgiving weekend, she and her fiancee were in town and the father asked if she could see me. Since my eldest had lessons today, I said I would stop in when I picked her up.

*Put a pin in it.

While getting dressed to get her, I was talking to a friend about how I was going to soon see a student that I’d had seventeen years ago.

Friend: See, she remembered you because you made an impression on her!

Me: No, she had just moved from Israel and I was her first teacher in the USA.

Friend: That’s not why she remembers you; I don’t remember my first teacher… You made an impact on her life and she remembers you!

*Pin out

When I went inside to where my child was playing a piece for her upcoming recital, I looked to my left and saw the face that I remember- now all grown up and engaged.

After our hug, she said this…

Student: I’m sure you don’t remember me since you have had a lot of students, but I have to tell you that you made such an impression on me and helped me so much. I was new to this country, I didn’t speak any english and you were there to help me, you spoke Hebrew to me and were the one to introduce me to friends. You taught me English and I was so scared but when you first spoke to me, I felt so much better. I’ll never forget that and how often I think of you, whenever I come back home.

It was great to see her after all these years and I had remembered her- because all of my students made impressions on me.

Anyhow, I wish her words could have been recorded but as her fiancee said, “as long as you heard it, that’s what matters.”

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Do You Want to Eat That in the Car?

The other day we finally had our vents and air ducts cleaned… ya know, cause of my squatters. Naturally it was time to evacuate the house so they could figure it all out, and to be quite frank, I wasn’t certain how long we’d need to be gone so I left sans jacket/scarf/mittens/hat.

Since it was nearing the lunchtime hour and my daughter brought her doghter, we had to eat outside. I knew just the place- so we were on our way.

While on the way, plain poppop called to see what we were doing. We told him once we found out if we could get a table, we’d call him back to join us.

As I’m pulling into the spot, my son proceeds to take off his jacket and says, this smells like dog pee. Since all of my pets (including the r’s) just shit and pee anywhere, any time, I told him to leave his coat in the car. Certainly, we couldn’t eat outside (no heat lamps) with him in a tee shirt- so I left the kids at one of the fifteen outdoor tables and went down to the corner store.

Upon my return, the kids informed me they had ordered but they did not know what plain p. would want.

Here’s where the lunch became a little bit of a problem…

I’d already been sitting outside with the kids (again, I did not have a jacket) for about thirty five minutes before pp came and readjusted his parking thrice. The kids had already finished their lunches when he was only beginning to order. It was maybe 50* at best and the kids were now ready for froyo.

Ten minutes later, the kids came back to the table with their yogurt when pp was only just being served. The moment I saw his Cheesecake Factory size portion of eggs and bread, I felt the air deflate from my dilapidated lungs. For one, he eats slow AF on a good day- add Parkinsons to the mix and well, just know you’re gonna be there a long time. Next, he’d finally be out with other people than Bub, and all he wanted to do was converse. Again, not so much the problem on a good day but I did say he had Parks and I was f.r.o.z.e.n so…. Lastly, the loaf of bread that those mother effers loaded onto his serving plate had not even been buttered yet, when I realized that I had about another twenty minutes outside.

Knowing that I was frozen, the kids were past done and pp was still talkewing, I asked for the check and bid my adieus.

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Talk Turkey To Me

Gone are the days of Covid, for the most part. Families are no longer secluded in isolation and Zooming during the holidays. Unless you’re Jewish, Thanksgiving might possibly be the first time you’ll sit down together at a table as one big family.

And while we all reunite inside, what things or traditions, will look different? For instance, are we still hugging and kissing? Will we be sitting shoulder to shoulder and speaking? Call me paranoid but the last I recall, we were told to remain six feet apart in a mask for the tiny particles that could escape- and now you want me to sit next to Simon Spitsalnite, who only speaks with words beginning with the letter “H” ?

It’s not as if November is the same as June…. we’re already ankle deep in flu season so forgive me for having some reservations.

One of the new traditions that I’d love to incorporate is staying in my jammies. The thought of dressing AND going out when it looks like midnight is just no bueno.

Additionally, I’d really love to just stop with the dreaded let’s go around the table and all say what we’re thankful for, because it’s the same bullshit everyone else is thankful for too. Must we hear: family, children, health… okay, or home and job? In fact, it would be a lot more enjoyable if we went around saying something we weren’t so happy about. Or better yet, say something we know someone else isn’t happy about!

Alas, all I’m saying is, perhaps its time to create some new holiday traditions.

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I Guess There is Something

I mean, I could say that in a few days time, I will once again be sitting in the chair and then sleeping for hours on end for two days after. Then, the tsunami from my ass will commence for another ten days, whereafter cramps come and go, until I miss the shitting.

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Cancer’s Got My Tongue

Really, there is nothing to say. I am not sure I am cured from the radiation but I am not in any pain. Of course, I cannot recall if I was in pain to begin with- nor how long it lasted, but I suppose I feel better.

My d has subsided – that occurred on day ten, but then stomach cramps ensued. Naturally those could be from either the radiation or chemo, so.

Like I said, not much to say.

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The other day at work, there was a buzzing sound emanating from the clock on the wall. After about ten minutes of trying to ignore the sound- I realized it would not miraculously end on its own, and called in my manager.

Manager: (listening) Ahh, yes; this happened last year in this office.

Me: Well, I sure hope you can stop it.

Manager: (looking) It’s coming from the clock on the wall; let me see what I can do since it’s connected to some sort of GPS system.

Me: Why don’t you just disconnect what you can for now? Besides, we all have clocks on our devices.

Person 1: We have another appointment at 9:15 am.

Me: Don’t worry; we’ll make it.

So, he left to take care of business and I resumed the meeting I’d been trying to conduct.

Needless to say, my colleagues and I were late for our next appointment.

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My mother asked if I was “wearing” anything in case.

As if any diaper would do anything to hold me over. No, what I would need is a Glad Construction bag with my feet able to go through, a Costco amount of Duck Tape to then be wrapped around my ankles, and then another Glad Construction bag with more effing tape. That may work.

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Ginger Ale

My friend suggested drinking Ginger Ale for my issues. I associate the soft drink with Sundays at my dad’s apartment, when I’d have a Thomas English Muffin along with it, so I was needless to say, skeptical.

Since I was filling an Instacart, I decided to get two bottles- which in hindsight, was a smart choice.

Now, while I was sick in bed, my sister was in the kitchen, rearranging my cluttered cabinets. Everybody feels the need to help, so that’s what she chose- along with doing my dishes, again.

Shortly after my sister left, enter bubbie.

Bubbie: What can I get you to drink?

Me; I guess the Ginger Ale.

Bubbie: Not the Gatorade? You need to keep up with the electrolytes.

Me: (Kidding- as she forgot that I did, I said) I don’t care; I’ll have Gatorale.

Moments later, my mother comes upstairs with my beverage and then heads back to the kitchen.

Me: (Spitting out the disgusting drink; yelling downstairs) Ewww! You mixed it!

Bubbie: (Back upstairs) What?? You said Gatorale!

Me: I was kidding! When on earth would that ever be a good mix?!

Bubbie: Fine Rochelle!

Moments later, she is back upstairs.

Me: (Noticing the cup of choice, I immediately remembered my sister did a Sleeping with the Enemy cabinet clean up, and said) That’s poppop’s glass!

Bubbie: How do you know?

Me: Because it was in a separate cabinet!

Bubbie: It was with your other glasses!

Me: No, it was in a different cabinet until sister decided to move it!

Bubbie: It’s been washed hundreds of times!

Me: It was washed once and then put away forever.

Bubbie: And you can’t drink from it?


Bubbie: You know, I am 73 years old and…

Me: …Healthy! You’re healthy!

Bubbie: Yes, and thank goodness I am! I am able to help you!

So, she goes downstairs to get yet another cup of the drink that I should have now drank, twenty minutes prior.

Needless to say, plain club soda is better IMO and that’s good because my mother used up the entire 2 liters finding the right cup.

The middle cup is filled with pretzels.
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Muriel’s Wedding

My work wife got married yesterday.

When we were having lunch the day after she met him, I knew he was the one because she was moving from the city and he lived in the city.

Anyway, they finally had their fairytale wedding; the wedding I’d heard about for years.

They both looked amazing- dressed up, tanned, glowing.

I had taken a half a day off from work to prepare for the afternoon affair, straightening my hair, putting on my stale makeup. In fact, it took almost as long for me to get ready, as I was there, in attendance.

Seeing everybody dressed up, sitting close to each other post Covid as life continues, I realized then and there just how much my life has veered off course.

The wedding that I was so excited for, I couldn’t wait for, made me realize just how fucked my life has become. For one, I couldn’t eat anything because even water causes me to have horrific d. Plus, I am now subjected to a BRAT diet and when I finally was shown a baby bun- which was adorable btw, it was too late. I had not eaten anything from 1pm on because I can not use a bathroom other than my own and I was now nauseated.

Next, it hurts to stand fully upright because of the cramps in my core, so I walk like the Hunchback of Notre Dame; dancing was obviously out.

Unable to physically wait to see the room where she’d dance, the flowers, nor hear the band, I told hubby it was time.

So, the day I was eagerly waiting for, where I got to see my friends get married, was over before it began.

Just like my life.

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My new name for chemo, since the majority of my days henceforth have been on the toilet.

Silver lining: I remembered to order a little spray bottle like the one I had post partum and while I am still in a lot of pain, my toosie isn’t.

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