INSTANT REPLAY

Barbara Ward-Finneran
Scarlett... cherry... candy apple...fire engine... even blood red. I love those colors lacquered on my nails or shinning on my lips. That flash of a power color that can scream confidence when it wraps around you with just the right fashion statement or lifts you to new heights in the perfect strappy stiletto. Red's my perfect color. Any shade is my favorite...

I tell the woman that I have rolling veins as she ties off the tourniquet on my arm and swabs antiseptic at the soft flesh of my inner elbow.  "This will pinch a little." All the thoughts and emotions had already begun to hurt long before she  manages to hit a vein on her first attempt.  Is it better to hurt or feel nothing at all? I twinge.  My fist tightens and my long nails jab into my palm as I watch her push the needle deeper into my arm to make the blood pour out.  The dark red color flushes the tube and fills it quickly.  The "tech"  effortlessly switches from one tube to the next.  Usually I'd turn away, but I can't break my glance from watching.  Almost feeling like I need to observe and see, so that it doesn't seem so surreal.  It's been over two years since I've done this and it all resembles some sort of an instant replay in my mind.  I was lucky last time. No, blest would be a better word.  Now I wonder, will lightening strike twice?

Sure, anyone who knows me, knows I love red.  My power color of choice.  Watching it fill up a vial so it can be screened to answer the cancer question leaves you feeling anything but powerful.  Watching it be labeled and tagged with numbers, it's just a number to the lab, yet to me it's so personal.  Personal enough to effect the rest of my life.  The tubes are so covered with stickers now that the beautiful rich hue of the blood can hardly be seen.  The "tech" makes small talk about it going around the country.  First to Tampa and then to California.  Once there in some magical medical place it will be screened with a state of the art process.  Professionals searching this life giving liquid for the proverbial needle in a haystack.  Searching for microscopic markers, and/or tell a tale break away cells, and/or hormonal changes, in a sample that contains billions of normal blood cells.  I have no comprehension of how many "markers" or cells will tilt the scale.  Make this concern of malignancy all the more real.  I hate tests that I can't study for, I much prefer to be in control of my ability to ace it.  Right now, I have no control.  The score from 1 to 10 is out of my hands.  "The mass has grown and changed, it is more solid, more textured"... the doctors words echo through my mind.  I can't shake something in her tone.  There is just an inflection in it that robs me just the slightest of feeling as confident about this as I did in round one back in 2010. 

I'm not even sure it's her voice as much as my own gut, just knowing something is different.  I knew.  Before the sonograms that confirmed the changes  had even been performed - I had already told a friend it'll have to come out this time.  I knew my waiting and watching time was over - this time the ovarian mass/tumor will be removed.  I was right.  Seeing the doctor's caller ID on my phone after hours the day of the sonogram made my heart beat slightly out of rhythm for a moment.  Hearing the doctor's voice on the phone confirmed my instincts before her words could define the situation. Her words changing from positive to worse case scenario in brief moments.  More tests and surgery scheduled in less then five minutes flat. 

Surgery scheduled just five days before my current medical benefits end.  After 18 years of dedication, service and ministry at my job, I became "victim" to a reduction of force.  My position, if I return to it, will be part time and all benefits will be banished at the end of the current contract.  I certainly won't be ready to report back to work on the 7th day following my surgery, ironically, I also lost all of my many days of acquired sick time.  None of this gives one any kind of warm fuzzy and this double whammy has packed quite a punch. 

Honestly, I've been kind of reeling some days.  Fighting for hours with the insurance company with endless phone calls and 800 numbers. That to which I don't think you'd believe unless you've "been there and done that", in your own attempts to advocate for coverage for yourself or someone you love.  Optimistic and positive the majority of the time and had many moments of needing to hug my kids "right now" in that intense way that a cat has to be from point "A" to point "B" in a nano-second. 

Yesterday the diagnostic tests were done.  The fighting with the insurance company has reached a cease fire while they review the documentation (although they already called today looking for more paperwork) for my gap coverage exception.  More irony and a whole other blog about how the thousands and thousands of dollars that I pay for my family's medical insurance still can get you nowhere if what you need isn't on the plan or in the right network. 

But today it doesn't matter.  It's all "done" now.  I feel a little lighter despite the wait.  Despite the wonder of where I'll score and if meeting and oncologist is in my immediate future.  At this point I have done all I can do and it is what it is.  I have been embraced by my friends and family and I know that no matter the road ahead they will be there every step of the way. With every twist and turn, "Jesus take the wheel".

Yet, I've been having trouble writing... feeling like the posts all sound the same.  Feeling "fake" trying to wrap my head around inspiring words that would be read worthy. Trying to push my usual genre of "pollyiana positive"... yet you can't force what isn't there. Quite frankly, it's been a little MIA some days.  "You gotta write what you feel", a friend recently reminded me.  As profoundly positive as I am that I will be okay.  Those feelings linger that okay may be redefined.  At one moment I'm ready to face it head on and in another I'm flushed with emotion and wishing the tears would come so I could have that soul cleansing release.  Yet I can't cry.  The tears won't come.  And, I don't know and can't explain why.  Even running in the driving rain, one of my cure alls for the need for a good cry, hasn't dispensed the bowing dam.  I guess the tears will come when they are ready.  When I am ready.  Maybe they won't come at all.  (I haven't cried since that week last month.  The worst emotional week of my life since I buried my Dad over 18 years ago. In five days I had a falling out with a very dear friend whose permanent absence I couldn't fathom but seemed very possible, and left me gut wrenchingly numb.  Followed by being served with the inevitable but ever looming papers on our home. To knowing that my tumor was rearing it's ugly head to finishing on Friday with a severe reduction of force where I work.  Watching people I love be laid off and other positions "cut" to part time. Sadly, this wasn't new or surprising. Those of us who still remain on the job have already seen way too much of this before that Friday.  I didn't cry then, or at all that week. Days later I did, running on the beach in the rain.)  Is it better to hurt or feel nothing at all?  Maybe I'm gut wrenchingly numb again.  Yet that hollow hole I felt in the pit of my stomach that emotional week... I feel nothing there now.  Perhaps those tears will surface during my last ever PMS.  (Oh, did I mention that with this surgery comes full blown menopause.) Eh! Screw the tears! (I'm sure they will have their time) Bring on the chocolate and the wine - and look out world - I'm thinking the last period of you life you can plan to be a b*tch in heels!  LOL......  Who knows.  It could happen. Anything's possible!  

FDA APPROVES NEW OBESITY DRUG

Marion Pellicano Ambrose



The Food and Drug Administration has approved a new anti obesity drug names Belviq, the first new prescription drug for long-term weight loss to enter the U.S. market in 13 years.

Despite only achieving modest weight loss in clinical studies, the drug appeared safe enough to win the FDA’s endorsement, amid calls from doctors for new weight-loss treatments. The agency cleared the pill Wednesday for adults who are obese or are overweight with at least one medical complication, such as diabetes , high cholesterol .or high blood pressure.

The FDA denied approval for the drug in 2010 after scientists raised concerns about tumors that developed in animals studied. The company resubmitted the drug with additional data, and the FDA said there was little risk of tumors in humans.

Arena, the pharmaceutical company who manufactures the drug, and its partner Eisai Inc. of Woodcliff Lake, N.J., expect to launch Belviq early next year.

With U.S. obesity rates nearing 35 percent of the adult population, many doctors have called on the FDA to approve new weight loss treatments.

But a long line of prescription weight loss offerings have been associated with safety problems, most notably the fen-phen combination, which was linked to heart valve damage in 1997. The cocktail of phentermine and fenfluramine was a popular weight loss combination prescribed by doctors, though it was never approved by FDA.

In a rare move, the FDA explicitly stated that Belviq “does not appear to activate” a chemical pathway that was linked to the heart problems seen with fen-phen. It said the drug acts on a different chemical pathway in the brain, which is believed to reduce appetite by boosting feelings of fullness. With obesity on the rise in America, I’m sure there are many overweight people hoping that this might finally be the magic pill that will end their struggles with see-sawing weight and the accompanying health problems. Let’s hope this drug does all they say it will do.

 http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=2589326183749752511#editor/target=post;postID=3622830838290538680



STICKY SWEET

CHOCOLATE THOUGHTS FOR THE DAY

Patty B

After a bar of chocolate one can forgive anybody, even one’s relatives.
There are only three things in life that matter – good friends, good chocolate and, oh dear, what was that other one?
Once you consume chocolate, chocolate will consume you.
A little too much chocolate is just about right!

PARANORMAL PUB: Grannie in the Grave

An Urban Legend retold by

Marion Pellicano Ambrose

My great-great grandmother, ill for quite some time, finally passed away after lying in a coma for several days. My great-great grandfather was devastated beyond belief, as she was his one true love and they had been married over 50 years. They were married so long it seemed as if they knew each other's innermost thoughts.

After the doctor pronounced her dead, my great-great grandfather insisted that she was not. They had to literally pry him away from his wife's body so they could ready her for burial.

Now, back in those days they had backyard burial plots and did not drain the body of its fluids. They simply prepared a proper coffin and committed the body (in its coffin) to its permanent resting place. Throughout this process, my great-great grandfather protested so fiercely that he had to be sedated and put to bed. His wife was buried and that was that.

That night he woke to a horrific vision of his wife hysterically trying to scratch her way out of the coffin. He phoned the doctor immediately and begged to have his wife's body exhumed. The doctor refused, but my great-great grandfather had this nightmare every night for a week, each time frantically begging to have his wife removed from the grave.

Finally the doctor gave in and, together with local authorities, exhumed the body. The coffin was pried open and to everyone's horror and amazement, my great-great grandmother's nails were bent back and there were obvious scratches on the inside of the coffin.

WHAT MATTERS

Barbara Ward-Finneran

Believing in spite of the doubts.

Taking risks.

Family game nights.

Someone who makes you smile even when they aren't around.

Thinking before you speak.

Knowing there is beauty even in things that cause pain. 

Unconditional love.

People who give you strength.

Knowing everyday is important.

Loving life and being brave. 

Keeping the promises that you make to yourself!

THIS PARTY BITES

DRL welcomes Mrs. Patty Smukall, Zoologist, Teacher, and now, Party Planner!

Patty Smukall

Yes, it was a birthday party, and yes, it was all about SHARKS!

While teaching Marine Biology at a local Middle School, I was approached by the parents of one of my students. She asked me if I would organize and run a birthday party for her daughter and several of her friends. Her daughter loved our classes so much, she wanted a “shark” party. After finding out what the girl had in mind, I was happy to oblige.

The party took place in my school Science lab in the evening. I decorated the room with netting, hanging fish, and of course, a giant paper machete shark. The back table was covered in a sea-blue cloth with shark paper goods and a shark centerpiece. I even redid my bulletin boards to reflect the theme.

For food , we had “shark bites” (chicken fingers) with BBQ sauce,  blue jello mold with gummy sharks swimming in it, foot and hand shaped biscuits with a ‘bite” taken out of them, and assorted dips with taco chips ( chips were placed in dip sticking up like a shark fin.) For dessert, I made shark cupcakes using regular cupcakes and twinkies. They looked amazing, if I say so myself!

 And now the reason why this mom asked me, the science teacher, to handle this party. The party activity the student chose was dissecting sharks! That’s right – DISECTING sharks. We spend part of the evening studying sharks and their habits. We then dissected. The girls were thrilled. I had a lab coat for each child ( courtesy of the student’s mom) with their name on the pocket “Dr._______”  .  I issued them protective glasses and latex gloves. They had the time of their lives, and I did too!

After dissecting, what better thing to do than eat?We had a feast and watched them movie “Jaws”. We all slept in sleeping bags and I projected images of the sea with all kinds of sea life on the ceiling. We fell asleep to the sounds of my “oceans” meditation tape. In the morning, we were up early and the mom made us shark shaped pancakes for breakfast. Each student got a goodie bucket of “shark bait” which included gummy sharks, a sharks tooth necklace, a small stuffed shark bean bag toy and shark shaped cookies.

 The student and her mother were thrilled. The guests had a fabulous time and I felt it was a great success. I guess it must have been ,because since then I’ve had several requests for parties, including a sea turtle party, dolphin party, clown fish party, Octopus party  and more. I guess if the economy keeps going on the way it is , I can always fall back on this as my 2^nd career!

SERGEANT STUBBY

Marion Pellicano Ambrose

While visiting a friend today, she told me about a TV show she had seen, which documented  the life  of a very unusual dog named Stubby. After hearing a little a bit about the show, I felt I wanted to learn the whole story for myself. I read several articles, watched some  videos and checked the web for everything I could find. So here is the story of  Stubby, WWI Veteran and Hero!

 Stubby was a stray Pit Bull Terrier who was abandoned in New Haven, Connecticut during the time of World War I. He was a homeless, stray living out of garbage cans. One fateful day, he wandered on to the parade ground of the Yale University campus. At that exact time, the 102^nd Regiment, 26^th Infantry Division happened to be training to be deployed. A soldier named John Robert Conroy, took pity on the pathetic little dog and named him “Stubby” because of his stubby little tail. Conroy started leaving food and water for the dog and let him sleep in the barracks on occasion. Stubby’s winning personality and great intelligence soon endeared him to all the other soldiers. This dog was so smart that he learned the bugle calls, learned to march in formation with the men and believe it or not, learned to salute superior officers by raising his forepaw to his brow.

Stubby truly became “one of the men” and when it came time for the 102^nd to ship out, Stubby was conveniently stuffed in Conroy’s coat and smuggled onto the ship headed for France and the War. Once at sea, Stubby was allowed on deck and the sailors also fell in love with him. The machinists’ mate made him asset of his own dog tags.

Eventually, Conroy’s commanding officer caught wind of the dog aboard. When confronted, Conroy gave the command: “Present Arms!”  Stubby saluted the officer who immediately gave his blessing for Stubby to stay with the 26^th, even into battle.  Stubby became the official mascot of the American Expeditionary Force and gave support and encouragement to each of the homesick soldiers on the front lines.

During his tour of duty, Stubby participated in 17 battles and 4 major offensives. In 1918 he was wounded in action and almost died, in a chemical weapons attack where the Germans launched mustard gas. But Stubby was too tough to let a little gas get him, and because of his experience, he became a “mustard gas detection dog”, letting the men know there was gas before it got to a lethal level. He would warn the men to put on their gas masks by running up and down the line, barking and nipping until they put on their masks. His actions saved countless lives this way.

Stubby was also able to detect artillery fire before the shells started exploding. This also saved many lives, as Stubby could sense German ground attacks before the men. They said he could sniff bratwurst coming from miles away and would warn the sentry by barking or even biting him until he would sound the alarm.

  Stubby spent much of his free time looking for wounded and dying Allied soldiers to rescue. According to first-hand accounts, this dog could hear English being spoken and he'd immediately run over and check out the wounded man. If the wounded man was able to walk, Stubby would lead him back to friendly lines. If the soldier was too wounded to move, Stubby would stand there and bark until a medic arrived.

Stubby the War Dog was wounded again in combat in April 1918, when he was hit with a German hand grenade while participating in the assault on the German town of Schieprey. Despite receiving shrapnel wounds to his forelimbs and chest, Stubby survived the grenade blast, lived through some emergency surgery, and spent his convalescence time cheering up the wounded men in the field hospital. He returned to action a few months later and helped participate in the liberation of Chateau Thierry, a deed that impressed the  French ladies living in the city so much that they made him a chamois blanked decorated with the flags of the Allied countries to thank him. The men of the 102nd, for their part, made Stubby a jacket designed to look like an American military uniform, and then they decorated it with Stubby's name, rank, and medals – medals that included the Purple Heart, the Republic of France Grande War Medal, the Medal of Verdun, and medals for every campaign in which he'd served.

But this thing wasn't done yet. While serving in the Argonne Forest during the Meuse-Argonne campaign of September 1918, Stubby was patrolling the trenches when he discovered a camouflaged German spy hiding out mapping the Allied trenches. Stubby must have smelled the bratwurst on this man or something, becaude he started barking and circling the soldier,  the spy made a run for it but Stubby chased and took him down. Stubby bit the spy in the rear causing him to curse spontaneously, and in German. He held the spy down until the Americans could take him into custody. For his bravery and diligence, Stubby was promoted to the rank of Sergeant, which meant that the dog now outranked his owner, who was only a Corporal at this time. Stubby became the first dog to be promoted to a rank the army. When the Americans brought the German spy back to camp they stripped the prisoner of his Iron Cross and pinned the German military medal on the dog's jacket instead.

After the war, Sergeant Stubby was smuggled back to the states, where he was an instant celebrity. He was inducted into the American Legion, offered free food for life from the YMCA, and whenever he went out of war bonds promotion tours five-star hotels would relax their "no dogs allowed" policy for the canine war hero. He went to the White House twice, met three presidents, and in 1921 the American overall commander "Black Jack" Pershing personally pinned a one-of-a-kind "Dog Hero Gold Medal" on Stubby's military jacket.

When Robert Conroy ended up attending Georgetown University for law school after the war, Sergeant Stubby went with him. The dog immediately became the official mascot of the football team – and to this day the University sports mascot is still a dog . In addition to hanging out with the players, it eventually became tradition to bring Sergeant Stubby out on the field during Halftime of football games and he'd pump the crowd up by running around the field pushing the ball around with his nose. Nobody had really done anything like this before, meaning that, Sergeant Stubby might have possibly invented the Halftime Show.

Sergeant Stubby, American war hero dog, died in 1926, at the (approximate) age of ten. Stubby was preserved and is displayed in his own exhibit at the Smithsonian's Museum of American History.

And that’s the story of a true American World War I Hero – Sergeant Stubby.

NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED

Barbara Ward-Finneran

You never know for certain if trying something new will work out better then what you did prior to the new.  However if you never try something different, if you aren't willing to take a risk, you will certainly never find out.  It involves taking a leap of faith without being certain where you will land.  Or if you will even land on your feet.  In fact there's a good chance you could land on you ass.  Even then, from your bottom the best place to look from there is up.  Perhaps the hardest part is leaving your comfort zone.  That safe place where you have abided... sometimes for far too long.  Does the action of a calculated risk mean you've relinquished some sanity?  Who in their right mind leaves a job in this time of economic hardship to venture out into the unknown?  Naysayers will tell you to stay where you are and wait for a better time or place.  Wait to be really ready. My argument is, that that time may never come.  Perhaps we have to be brave enough to create the time and place. You are never going to be ready. However you can be fearless enough to ignore all that you hear except the voice in your heart that beats in time with the dream.  

Changing course and plotting a new path can be something dangerous to your stability and risky to life as you know it.  Yet, isn't the biggest risk challenging yourself to rise to the occasion?  Sure failure can result, but isn't the biggest failure not trying at all. Accept the fact that what you do could have negative repercussions and bravely move forward knowing that lessons learned will make it all worthwhile.  The "education" of the process will make you better and "smarter" then you are at this very moment. One you convince yourself that the risk is worth the gain,  it'll be easier to listen you your heart say "go for it", even when the mind wants to retreat and remind you that "you have no idea of what you are doing or all this will entail".  

The best ventures need to involve - not necessarily equal parts of passion, sense, dream, apprehension and adventure.  Taking a risk is dangerous, courageous, and maybe even preposterous.  It is also to be celebrated!  Even it terrifies you.  If you aren't at least a little bit scared then you probably aren't vested enough in the desired outcome.  A risk taker must be willing to bet the highest stakes on themselves. Be willing to work hard and put yourself out there... out of the box and out of your comfort zone. Be willing to go BIG or go home.  Willing to close your eyes and make a wish.  Vow all the blood, sweat and tears needed to make it work and take a leap of faith.  I do believe I'm there....
GERONIMOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

PARANORMAL PUB: Heartbeat Bridge

There's nothing like a good old summer spooky story being told around the campfire, during an evening bonfire at the beach, or even on the porch after dark. This story is said to have taken place near Heartbeat Bridge, located in Ellicot City, MD. This tale is told by people living in the area to explain why, to this day, a heartbeat can be felt through the pavement by people standing on the bridge. 

 -Marion Pellicano Ambrose

Something was going on. Jason felt it in his bones. Polly was too happy, too cheerful. No woman could be that upbeat and still be faithful to her husband. Jason sat down to a delicious, warm meal every night, and Polly sang to herself as she washed up. What kind of woman could be cheerful doing dishes? Try as he might, Jason never heard anything that hinted of a secret romance. It drove him crazy. Life was not this perfect.

Maybe Polly was seeing the milkman, or the grocer. Jason started getting up early in order to see who it was that delivered the milk. Much to his disappointment, the fellow looked as if he’d been born several centuries ago. Then Jason started doing the food shopping, and checked out every single male employee in the local grocery store. They were either antediluvian relicts—like the milkman—or still in diapers.

Later that month Jason was over at his father-in-law’s house working in the garage when he over heard his father-in-law call to Hank…Polly’s high-school boyfriend. Now he knew! He knew why Polly was so happy all the time. Her parents must have told her that Hank was coming home, and she was planning on running off with him.

Enraged with jealousy, Jason was waiting in the kitchen when Polly got back from church. He was beyond reason. He snatched up a newly sharpened steak knife, howling: “You’ve cut out my heart, now I’ll cut out yours!” Jason leapt around the table and ripped Polly’s still-beating heart out of her chest. Blood streaming everywhere, he sailed out the back door into the dark night and flung her heart, still thumping, over the side of the bridge that spanned the creek next to their home

Jason cleaned up the blood-stained house with extreme care and buried Polly’s body deep in the woods outside of town. Then he wrote several letters, carefully mimicking Polly’s handwriting, and mailed them to himself and her parents. Within a few days, everyone in town believed that Polly had been secretly seeing a man from the next town and that they had run away together.

Late one evening, he went out to the bridge to gloat in triumph over his unfaithful wife. Polly had gotten what she deserved, he thought. As he stood staring down at the water, he became aware of a vibration under his feet. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. It floated softly through the air, a simple rhythmic thudding. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. Jason’s hands began to tingle as he recognized the soft thudding sound. It was the same beat he had felt when he held Polly’s bleeding heart in his hands. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

The heartbeat rang in his ears, thundering so loud that he was afraid it would wake the neighbors. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. Jason clapped his hands over his ears and ran back to the house. But he could not escape the terrible sound: Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. Even the floorboards seemed to vibrate to the slow, steady rhythm. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. It sounded like a heart-beat. Polly’s heartbeat. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

Jason screamed in terror and flung himself out of the house, running toward the bridge as the heartbeat grew louder and louder in his ears. Jason leaned over the railing.

“Curse you, Polly!” he shouted.

Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

With a wild shriek, Jason flung himself headfirst off the bridge like a diver, and was smashed to death on the rocks below.

Underfoot on the bridge, the pavement still vibrates to the beat of a dead heart. For now and always.

Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

 

Excerpted from Spooky Maryland by S.E. Schlosser

REVOKE MY LICENSE PLEASE!

Barbara Ward-Finneran
Never thought I'd joke about that after last year's fiasco of having my license suspended do to a clerical error with the hyphen in my name.  It was so NOT funny.  But I'm not talking about my drivers license.  I'd like to request that my "responsible adult" license be revoked?!  PLEASE!  For a few days, a day, a hour. In a way that is more effective then playing ostrich with your head in the sand.  Or running away to an evening of GNO with adult beverages and or desserts. Or having a date night in a child free zone.  Or spending a little time in some sort of fantasyland that you fancy.  All effective in their own ways - but none of those good times make "it" go away!  You get stolen moments of forgetting the world and it's realities.  Fleeting occasions to escape what overwhelms you, but cannot be ignored.  At least not for any real length of time with out things coming crashing down. As a responsible adult it is our job to prevent those crashes in all arenas of our life.  At all costs. At times even at your own expense.  


Yes, I am having one of those, "Make it Stop" evenings.  It'll pass... it always does.  I'm certain I'll be back to "Soul Food" and my "Miss Mary Sunshine" in no time at all...

However in the meantime, I'm going to say, ARGGGGGGG!  And, additionally give myself permission to have a cup of something cold and creamy from the freezer and drown my sorrows with some Hershey's syrup.  I call it "something" because I only keep the type of dairy desert in the house that doesn't constantly scream my name.  Only the decadence of certain name brands get the respect being ice creams that are worth the calories.  I will however compose enough control to not drive to Seven Eleven and purchase a pint to polish off in a single sitting.  Yes, I know it won't fix a damned thing.  I also know I'm having a moment and not an relapse of an emotional eating disaster.  I can allow myself a moment.  I can even allow myself a good cry if needed. I know it'll all be okay.  If not tomorrow, then soon.  As for tomorrow... I'll catch you then, after I go have my moment.  Since my license can't be revoked, and reality will be there in the morning, I'll settle for a fleeting moment.  After all, I'm positive, that they don't make "it" all go away - but they certainly give us time to regroup. Embrace whatever momentary escapes you can when you can! Whipped cream anyone???