Tic Tac Toe

The buns all still like to eat in a row.

Like Peeling A Grape

 Herself speaks.

"It's like peeling a grape," the dermatologist said. 

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I had the third MOHS surgery yesterday. It was successful, it appears; for the moment, I am once more skin-cancer-free. 

It was no more unpleasant than last time. (Which is to say, it was unpleasant, but not unexpectedly so). The doctor took a different tactic this round: since the cancer appeared to be very surface-level, he was able to remove the top layer of skin and did not need to go deeper. Rather than suture the wound closed -- which would have required transplanting a flap of skin from nearby -- he left it open. Think of a skinned knee, except cleaner and more thorough. And about the size of a nickel (approximately - in my mind's eye it seems larger, though that's likely because it is so very FRONT AND CENTER on the surface of my nose). It should eventually fill in, and in about six weeks, I can ask him to revise the scarring if I am not satisfied with the appearance. 

The idea of having yet another procedure in six weeks is... disappointing. 

At least it doesn't hurt much (except when I had to put pressure on the site last night to stop some fresh bleeding). That's something.

I can hardly stand to look at myself. I don't particularly enjoy looking in the mirror anyway -- I am slow to come to terms with my current iteration that most closely resembles an anthropomorphic rodent (and a rotund and middle-aged one at that). The addition of an unsightly wound front-and-center, even though I know it's temporary, just makes me cringe. The fact that it will continue to be unsightly for six weeks or longer, depending on how we need to revise the scarring, is disheartening. I know it's a drop in the bucket time-wise. Still. I am frustrated.

A positive (other than momentarily being cancer-free) is that because Pandemic, it will not be too strange for me to continue to wear a mask in public. I can maintain my usual form as invisible middle-aged woman and avoid becoming noticeable in a good Lord what happened to her way. That's a good thing.

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One thing that surprised me this time around, was the near-universal comment from the few people I told: it could be worse. Yes, it certainly could. I know it could. I am having some trouble mustering gratitude for it not being worse, though. Perhaps that's my failing. I'd feel better with acknowledgment of how I'm feeling. Or a generic "it will be OK" -- because that not only affirms that it will eventually be OK, but also acknowledges that it might not currently be OK. 

In this day and age, we are so expected to exude positivity, relentless optimism and cheerfulness. I think we have lost sight of the fact that acknowledging uncomfortable or unhappy feelings isn't a bad thing to do. We all have difficult emotions, and those feelings are part and parcel of what it is to be human. It's OK to be distressed -- that's not a personal failing. It's a human moment. We all have those. They'll pass, as all moments do. 

Glorious Rain

It has been eons since it rained.

It's excellent. (Except for the leak in the roof.)  I do love the rain.

The Clock App

 Herself speaks.

Confession: I have a TikTok account. 

I don't create content, for many reasons, including: 1) I'm not that creative; 2) I mostly prefer the written word to oral/visual communication; 3) I do not want to put myself out into the Internet Realm any more than I am already through this blog. 

Nevertheless, I really enjoy a lot of TikTok content. Thanks to the algorithm, My "For You Page" (FYP) has evolved into a collection of wholesome content-makers: nature and science lovers; body positivity supporters; LGBTQIA+ individuals; autistic advocates; animal devotees; quirky people showing their unusual hobbies and creations; odd ducks, just being themselves. It's delightful. 

I don't usually read comment sections on the internet, because if we have learned anything from the exponential growth of the world wide web, it's DON'T READ THE COMMENTS BECAUSE PEOPLE ARE CRUEL. Comment sections are where trolls and petty cruel persons emerge just long enough to be cruel to strangers, to mock them and spit hurtful words and then disappear once more into the anonymity of the web. 

However: when I occasionally dive in to TikTok comment sections, it is always a pleasant surprise to see a multitude of enthusiastic, validating, and heartwarming comments on so many videos. What a wonderful sense of community is created -- bridging gaps of time and age and distance, creating webs of kindness and support. In this age of Pandemic and Disillusionment, it's a breath of fresh air. 

And because of that, I sometimes add my two cents of support and thanks to the comment sections as well. For that brief moment, I am adding my own molecule of positivity to the world. That's a nice feeling. And the world could use a little bit more positivity. 

Tasty

We went out to a restaurant for dinner, for the first time since Nearly Forever (at least one Pandemic ago). It was nice. And weird. And tasty. 

Handsome

Sometimes, I feel sad that New Old Dog's passing was overshadowed by Tiny Dog's decline and passing shortly thereafter. We did not have time to mourn him properly before we were mourning Tiny Dog, too. 

He was such a good boy, with his cheerful trot and his glossy fur. I used to think that I should take him to the salon with me to explain, make my hair this lovely bouncy color. Such good company, so stoic, so patient. A kindly soul. 

I miss you, my little old man. Rest easy. 

Believer

 Herself speaks.

I understand why people believe in an afterlife. 

What a beautiful idea: someday, we will once more be in the presence of those we have loved and those who have loved us, without pain, all made whole and perfect. To forgive and to be forgiven for imperfections and failings. To know that everyone already knows the things that we wanted them to know but left unsaid, either out of fear or misunderstanding, or because there were not words or actions sufficient to convey meaning. To be able to love fully and without hesitation. And to be loved unquestioningly. 

What glory that would be. And what peace. 

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I wish I could believe. 

Perhaps someday, the Universe will send me a sign. 

I like to hope so.