Remove My Skin!

Gahhhhh!

Months ago, I saw a homeopath. I stopped going when he revealed himself to be a Trump zealot. Like, would not shut up about what nice guy Trump “actually” is.

“I’ve met him and…” blah blah blah, he bragged. There it is. Cult of celebrity and hollow name-dropping. I imagine he attended some big event that Our National Shame lent his corrupt brand to.

“I’m sure he’s lovely,” I snarked back. “I’m sure he respects women and people of color, and everything he says to the contrary is all in good fun.”

HE WOULD NOT STOP.

“Okay! Can we get back to my health now?”

Orange-faced people aside, this homeopath was of the opinion that orange-haired people don’t metabolize sulfur. While I’ve never been successful at any diet, I did quit coffee, which is among the worst sulfur offenders. Well, Thursday, it was rainy and cold, and nothing sounded better than jammies and java. I went back on the bean.

Two days later, my skin started crawling! I cannot stop scratching!!! I’m in HELL!

I think I can say that I’ve successfully experienced elimination testing. I AM DYING! My eyeballs hurt. The insides of my ears itch! I can feel every single hair! (I had another bout of trichotillomania and tore out chunks of eyelash. Just last week, I was remarking how long my lashes were. I couldn’t recall the last time I pulled at them. Presumably, when I last drank coffee.)

Tear my flesh from my bones! It itches!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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My Cat Needs Surgery and I Have Cancer

Well, it’s a grabby headline, anyway.

My poor kitty. Her ear has swollen even more since yesterday. Any more, and it will pop on its own. Maybe that would be cheaper. I feel so sad for her. It’s been one thing or another with her since she was 4 weeks old, from the innocuous to the terrifying. I’m always amazed at the next new thing. “Seriously? It never ends for you!”

I’ve decided she has a compromised immune system that makes her vulnerable to attacks of this, that, and everything. “Well, it’s obvious you’re my children,” I tell them. “One of you never stops talking and the other has auto-immune disease. We’re family!”

How I love them. =^..^=pen and crick

And the medical information I had to worry about all night? Well, I didn’t worry. I felt comforted, by my mom and my cheerleaders on high. I spoke with the nurse first thing this morning, and my biopsy came back positive for squamous cell skin cancer. No biggie. I’ll wait for the site to finish healing, and in a month I go back in to start freezing it to death.

When I mapped my genome 2 years ago, it revealed a higher than average risk of squamous and basal cell carcinomas. Both are relatively harmless and very common among fair-skinned people. I’m a redhead in the desert, and I’m a cyclist. Though my hands didn’t burn in the last decade, I confess I didn’t always wear sunscreen. Sheer bike gloves afforded some protection, but I knew better. It’s begun. (I was comforted to learn that I have only average risk for melanoma, the more deadly skin cancer.)

Yesterday, mom told me she got a cream from her dermy to put on her face for a couple of weeks to seek out the bad patches and burn them. She said she looks like she has acne on every square inch of skin. “Poor mom!” I laughed. “I’m sorry you’re ugly!”

Hopefully, it’s like a chemical peel and takes age spots, too, because ALL of my freckles have morphed these days and I, no doubt, will be getting that treatment myself one day.

Mid-life was never supposed to happen to me!

Word On The Street

I sound like a redhead!

The lovely woman who’s been assisting me in this super fun assignment at a car dealership told me the most curious thing this morning. Her sister calls quite a bit, it seems, and said to her, “I just love Christie! What does she look like?”

Darlene described me.

“That’s exactly how I imagined her! You have to take a picture!” Ha!

As for the super fun position? In 2 days, the salesmen had given me a nickname (Tiny Dancer). In 2 weeks, I’ve had 2 dates with 2 different gents, and I get chatted up more here than I have in my entire life! Very reassuring for the 40-year-old ego…

So far, I’m 3 for 3 at being offered (in some cases, begged to take) the full-time position. Very reassuring for the professional ego…  

Wonder if I sound like I’m going gray. 🙂

The Last Time I Fell In Love

… was three years ago. I remember, because it was the weekend of Burning Man but I’d gone to a different festival, a grape stomp, in southern Utah. I met Galen, and spent Autumn falling in love. We were together on and off until last October. I still love that man, but we were not a fit. We knew it early, we just couldn’t stay apart. I was happy to finally date one of the good ones, and that was one hell of a magnet between us! Galen’s earthy, active, sweet, fun, weird and wonderful. Just not mine.

There was Rhode Island in March. I mention him because that was the best crush I’d had in a while, and even though I got the dreaded phone call this summer (“I met someone”), he has, in fact, proven true. (“I want to stay friends.”) I didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again – It’s just something people say – but I was wrong. We continue to call back and forth and I’m just so glad we met. He was only here a week, but I was surprised at how much he came to mean to me. It feels good to know that I meant something to him, too.

I think I may have found another one. He loves his kids, served his country, sings beautifully, laughs hard, and thinks I’m so pretty there aren’t words.

As for me, my heart’s a’flippin.’ I feel like a teenager. We met on burn night, Saturday before Labor Day. Dalai-Mama is his mama, and I’d heard there was a party at her place. He noticed me, but… I’m loud.

I couldn’t tell if he found me obnoxious or was just doing his own thing because it was his mom’s house. Finally, we were standing side by side when Jordan announced, “The first thing I thought when I saw you was, ‘Now there’s Christie’s type!'”

She was right. I thought it, too, and said so. Jordan soon followed a laugh or a song, and it was just him and me. “I’ve always liked redheads,” he confessed.

I looked at him close to suss out the truth. A gal my color hears a lot of that. Doesn’t take long before she can tell if he’s a real red chaser or just saying the most obvious thing to the nearest girl. Sure enough, his ears turned red under a scrutinizing gaze. We were inseparable all weekend.

(Some can’t even make eye contact when they confess their preference, and I never get tired of that blush.)

So far, we’re both enjoying simply adoring one another, going on walks, snuggling during a DVD, eating in, and kissing kissing kissing. I cannot get enough of him! I can’t stop thinking about him. I love falling in love.