What the hell have I just done? This is what I asked myself almost as soon as I hit the launch button to make my project go live. Who did I think I was, asking my friends, family, and random strangers on the internet to fund my project..?

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror—a pail of warm water, a wash cloth, pair of scissors, and a bottle of vitamin E oil. Slowly, I peel back a corner of foam tape. It doesn't hurt, not the first few millimeters. Then it does. It pulls at my skin, revealing red pain underneath. I grit my teeth and pull a little more, then cut the tape away, dab the skin with the wet cloth, then smooth a little oil over the area. And repeat…

This was a surprise since at my last appointment we discussed surgery in the new year, somewhere in January or February. Anxious to get these uncomfortable tissue expanders out, though, I found myself committing to a surgery date before I’d really had the time to process everything. My mouth said yes; my brain was all fuzzy…

Movies are my escape when life gets a little too real. (I watch a lot of them). Here are my top ten teen movies listed in random order and a free bookmark...

They didn’t have any restrictions on the topic other than maybe it should be an introduction. So I thought about it and decided to write about my life-long love of reading and how it ultimately led to my becoming a writer (and when I say “becoming,” it’s like a process that I feel I’m in the midst of)...

When I first went through breast cancer twelve years ago, besides the initial shock, my predominating thoughts went to my beautiful two-year-old boy with his long hair and sunny disposition — just as any mother or father’s would. Would I see him grow up? How was it possible that I could be parted from him so early? It was nearly too much to bear. I can remember the waiting — waiting on results and pathology reports; the trip to pick out the Christmas tree the same day I received my initial diagnosis, and how surreal it all was, but there was my child to be strong for, and we – Husband and I — were strong. And everything turned out just fine, which I know it will this time.

But I learned about life the first time...

So I spoke to my oncologist to get her input. I thought about how young I was when diagnosed the first time; I’m still considered young for this recurrence. I also considered that there were a lot of years ahead of me in which I’d be worried about the possibility of recurrence on the “good” side. I’ve already been through one biopsy on the good side two years ago…

1. When someone tells you they’re going to have a mastectomy/reconstruction, don’t tell them, “At least you’ll get a brand new pair of boobies!” or anything closely resembling this statement in a well-meaning attempt to cheer them up about a sucky situation. I’ve only told a handful of people so far, and I’ve already heard this nearly every time...

It is customary to do a year in review. First off, I will not enumerate the reasons why 2011 sucked. There's no need. And I really don't find it necessary to access the painful emotions brought about by the sorrows of the year. Not going to go there. This is my reflection, though, on some of the good things that happened in 2011 and my very recent -- as of December 29th, so it got in just under the wire -- good news...

Today, on the eve of what is another transition for our boy -- who now stands taller than I and whose feet are two and a half sizes larger than Husband's..? ..! -- I wax philosophical once more.

Here are some random thoughts from a mother whose son is about to be promoted from the eighth grade. I will try not to be too sappy, but no guarantees there...

I've been thinking about the controversy he seemed to continually generate. Why? He was honest and bold. He believed in using the platform he'd been given as a world figure to promote his views. Was he cynical and bitter? Sometimes he seemed that way, but as Husband pointed out in a conversation we had just yesterday...

There are no winners or losers.  It's the international community of writers--hundreds of thousands have signed up this year--cheering each other on.  The first couple of days were tough.  I already had my beginning, had introduced the main characters and the plot, but I had no idea where the story was going...

I think the whole notion of Mother's Day needs to be addressed. My dear mother has found the holiday to be a Hallmark manipulation; a day of obligation. The retailers go into full production mode, it's overdone, overhyped, overpriced, and restaurants are so packed as to be ridiculous...

I have to admit, my blog has been gathering a bit of dust lately. I haven't been as diligent as I should be -- my writing energies have been focused elsewhere...

There are weddings and then there are weddings...

When I was a young girl, far-off relatives would send the family a fruitcake every year before Christmas, and every year it would sit in the middle of the dining room table untouched. In moments of desparation, I'd try to carefully extract the tiny bits of cake from the surrounding fruit and nuts only to end up frustrated, cursing it. But maybe a fruitcake is more than just a fruitcake...

Fall feels like the possibility that something new and exciting is about to happen. There's something in the air. Even the color of the light is a little different. To make sense of this...

Ah, the ’60s were great, weren’t they? Doris Day, clean-cut all-American astronauts, Mitch MIller, Look magazine... How we all long for that joy-filled, unpretentious time. Let’s take a look back at that wonderful era as seen through the lens of our advertising media. What were we selling ourselves? What did we want? Oh, and see if you spot the fake ad...

My feelings about this town can be summed up with the fact that I'm most happy when I can see it in my rearview mirror. A go-go dancer in a micro-micro bikini doing her dance is right in front of me and not 10 feet away, a giant plastic SpongeBob Squarepants advertises the “SpongeBob in 4-D” ride; you know, for the kids...

Uh, that’s hard for me to look at too and way too big, but looking through the newspaper ads (yeah, we still get a real paper newspaper), I learn that moms just love $48.97 diamond heart pendants...

Years ago, when I was still in school, I worked the costume jewelry counter at JC Penney.  It was a pretty sucky, mind-numbing job and didn't last too long; but I remember the days leading up to Valentine's Day, the rush of last-minute guys shopping for wives and girlfriends.  They certainly weren't the big spenders; we didn't have anything over let's say $50...

Our friend Laura G. has sent us a new story. When I read it, I was struck by how it applied to my family at this moment in time. Last week, my mother-in-law was in the hospital for a few days. She's okay, but we, our son especially, have to deal with the fact that she's getting older...

These were the words used in a search query by someone (likely a high school freshman) who found StoryRhyme.com. To the seeker: I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that you didn't read the story, did you? Because if you did, you'd know that O. Henry's use of irony is not exactly subtle. In fact, if at first you didn't know what irony meant, you would after reading "The Gift of the Magi..."

Update: Jim And Della's Gifts; Irony... Okay, since it's the season of giving and since I don't want to feel like I've got spiders in my soul like The Grinch, I'm directing this post to the many of you who are seeking the answer to the question: What is ironic about the gifts Jim and Della gave to each other. Also, what were they really giving...

At the age of 2, Grandma moved with her parents and brother from Kansas to the Arizona desert to homestead. Her mother (my Great Grandmother) taught school in the one-room school house and owned and ran the general store. Life was hard in the small ranch town. It was remote and often lonely...