Welcome to WTMI. i'll be your hostess.

greetings.  pull up a drink. sit for a spell.

this blogging business is new to me.  i'm 34, ok?  not a big fan of keeping journals and whatnots.  

i've read that the word diary comes from the Latin diarium meaning "daily allowance".  

but

to me, there's no coincidence that diary sounds like diarrhea which is Middle English for "a flowing through".  

don't say you didn't learn anything today.

i'm not a terribly regimented person, but i'll try to start each entry with a quote, song, and a film for the day.  set the tone, as it were.

~today's quote:  "Proof/of your existence? There is nothing/but." -Franz Wright, because i woke up this morning and took a good look around.  yep. sure enough.

~today's song: "Lost in the supermarket" by the Clash, because life is dirty and overwhelming.

~today's movie: Corrina, Corrina, because life is dirty but it can be fun as hell cleaning it up if you have a hula hoop and share an occasional belly laugh. amen. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

my single-breasted birthday suit

by

dee ann hairgrove

so i'm in training for the susan g. komen walk in september.  it spans 60 miles over 3 days.  i'm an avid and enthusiastic walker, and i'm a cancer survivor.  i hate that word- survivor.  maybe cancer dissident.  mom's a dissident, too.  i'm still involved in a type of chemo after 2 years of the most intense treatment that my body allowed.  the only thing worse than cancer is the treatments.  whoosh!

i guess i'm about 130 pounds.  i got down to about 90 pounds.  i lost my apartment, my job, my insurance, my hair, my toenails, my memory, my ability to have kids, my breast.  

i'm still waiting for the tv show or film that properly relays trying to breathe through all that quicksand.  until they show that crap and how it effects those around you (if you're lucky enough to have "those around you"), then i guess we settle for the likes of 'Sex and the City' and Samantha wearing satin pants and drinking martinis, squealing across the red carpet with her model boyfriend who dutifully stands by her side while she's going through chemo.  do i sound bitter?  nah, just tired. and annoyed.

off my box.  sorry. 

the point of this was to describe my attempts at getting ready for this walk.  ok- dee ann is not a camper.  i love gurgling streams, the smell of clover and dirt, and bambi.  i do not understand tents.  and if you have to put on bug-repellant and shoes just to hit the loo...wtf? in my registration packet from susan g. komen they sent recommendations on what clothes to wear, where to buy them, the best camping gear...the best wha?   

let me clarify:

20 miles per day

public toilets

no stopping at bars along the way

and i gotta sleep in a tent? so it's like, "here, have cancer. now go sleep on the ground."  christ on a cracker!  but alright.  i'm going i'm going.

then i go in search of "breathable pants".  issue #1:  anything that's wrapped around my lower girly bits and breathes...is called a boy.

issue #2: the first 3 places i hit, charge up to 80$ for these pants.  honey child, if i'm paying 80$ for a pair of pants in which to sweat, then they'd better come with my named stitched in rubies and a 34k gold vibrator.  mkay?

thanks for playing.  thanks for staying.  

fin