butterfly kisses

Hey Sister,

I'm glad you took control.  From way out here, it seemed that your body was saying enough.  I'm so glad you listened. And I hope you can sleep tonight.  I hope you have relief.

We had quite a few ugly Christmas trees.  There was the one with strings of big blue lights and a silver pot pie pan with a puncture in the middle so each big blue bulb could be pushed through one - sort of homemade reflectors.  That is a more vivid memory for me than the tree in the door.  I think that tree was put up while I was at college. I came home to it, but missed the creation drama.

The Color Purple always makes me cry...

I still want do-overs with my kids. I could do a better job now - but that's only because I made it through the first time.  Perhaps that is why grandmothers are so important.  And now that families are separated, grandparents don't get to...mmmm...offer advice.

When you asked about herbs, I considered suggesting dandelion root. It tones the liver, making it more effective. A more efficient liver cleanses excess hormones, which I was afraid would influence the way the tamoxifen is working. I only use milk thistle for the most severe liver problems.  And so I would suggest you really read up on it before you take it. If you decide to tone the liver, I seriously suggest dandelion root. The Flor-Essence sounds like a version of Essiac, supposedly a Native American cancer cure. I have heard a lot about it, but never actually met anyone who used it. Red clover has some estrogenic effects and also has the ability to thin the blood. You might want to think about that, especially before surgery.  It is easy to prescribe just herbs, but trying to find a good balance when combining with pharmaceutical meds is complex.

I saw a question yesterday that has been staying with me.  I will send the blog, with seven questions later.  But I challenge you to answer this question with me:

What about your life today would your eight-year-old self hate?

I have been lost in the past thinking about this.  I remembered being ten and announcing that when I grew up I would go into the Peace Corp,  have 5 kids - 2 boys and 3 girls, and be a writer.  I remembered how I used to take a book and climb a tree and read.

I think my eight-year-old hates that we don't climb trees and we don't read enough.  My eight-year-old hates that we don't write very much...that we do what others ask us/tell us to do. We thought we could be our own boss when we got big.

My eight-year-old wanted to play an instrument and take ballet. We are sad that we haven't done that.  We don't ride bike, we don't run.

My teen-aged self is appalled that I conformed, I am owned by the man, that I am losing myself because I need to make money to survive...

My eight-year-old is sad because we don't take time to spot fairy webs in the early morning or watch the pictures in the clouds or play with our food.

Maybe I have gotten rigid and forgotten how to have fun and to relate - to others, to the world...

How is your eight-year-old self?????

Love and hugs and butterfly kisses!

Clare