Happy New Year (aka Our Family Christmas Letter – Volume 9).

Disclaimer: I have always taken pride in my ability to be on time for pretty much everything in my life, so I am slightly embarrassed that my Christmas Letter is now a New Year’s Letter. But you’ll have to excuse me. It’s been a rough year. When you read the following, pretend Christmas wasn’t yesterday one two weeks ago.

In case you were wondering how 2022 was in our household, let me just say when I look back on it, I am reminded of that time when I was twelve years old and a neighborhood boy shoved a stick in the spoke of my bike tire while I was riding it. But more on that later.

This was the first full year that things seemed to get back to normal since the pandemic. Although I’m glad it’s over, some really good things were brought about because of it. Working from home, Jehovah’s Witnesses keeping their distance, and online shopping to name a few.

I know you think you have singlehandedly kept Amazon in business but you would be wrong. It was us. I can prove it because we have built a second home in Barbados with the cardboard boxes.

Our only child got engaged over the summer. Planning a wedding is tons of fun until you realize that everything you might buy for a backyard BBQ has been increased by 1000% in price just because you call it a “wedding.” I realize it may be too late for me, but I might try to change professions. If I’m successful, I’ll be able to laminate our vacation home.

We love our future son-in-law and are so happy to have him be officially part of our little family. I have always wanted a son. Except this is way better. We didn’t have to pay for his college.

Dear Husband hasn’t had the best year. He crashed his beloved sports car this past spring and has had a bit of an unplanned hiccup regarding his health. Then instead of increasing his health insurance he bought a new sports car. This car is not just any car. This car makes him happy. Happier than I make him I’m afraid. But it’s ok. I mean, it does go zero to sixty in 4.5 seconds. I haven’t been able to do that since 1998.

As for me, I’ve declared that I’m falling apart. I finally broke down and had the rotator cuff surgery I’ve been putting off for years. It’s my dominant arm and the recuperation is really not going well. Brushing my teeth with my right hand is like using my feet. That were transplanted from a monkey. Who lost the use of his toes in a jungle incident involving a giraffe.

I added two medications to my daily routine of Pepcid, Vitamin D, and probiotics. They are called “statin” and “estrogen.” And I thought having children ages you? Cholesterol drugs, hormone therapy, joint repair, in addition to kids makes a cocktail you don’t want to ever mix, yet here I am.

I had a great year of really taking care of myself. I lost close to fifteen pounds and started exercising six days a week. Then I had the surgery that rendered me useless which, in turn, has reversed all my hard work. My left arm may be mimicking that of a maimed monkey but I’m not sure what my legs’ problem is. Sympathy pains, I suppose.

I have really been feeling pretty badly about things of late until I saw a port-a-potty flipped on its side in someone’s yard on my way home from getting my shingles vaccine today. The grass is always greener…

I’m sure I’m missing something but at this rate, if I remember anything else I’m afraid you may have to add Zoloft to the mix and I just don’t have the room in my pill box.

So, with that I will end this by saying I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year, my friends. If you happen to take a trip to the jungle don’t get into any fights with a giraffe.

Celebrate Lung Leavin’ Day

What is Lung Leavin’ Day, you ask?  I’ll tell you what it is in a minute.  But first, I have this to say:  I generally like to find the humor in, well, everything.  But there are some things that, really, cannot be made fun of.  Unless it has happened to you, it’s not your place.  Particularly, if this “thing” is something serious.

There is only one part of this story that I find funny, and when I say “funny,” I don’t mean ha-ha funny.  Less than 48 hours ago, I was perusing the internet.  You know.  What I always do.  Looking for inspiration.  Looking for other bloggers to connect with.  Looking for ways to better my writing.  When I came across a link someone had shared on Facebook.

I think what made me “click” was because of this word:  mesothelioma.  Is this personal for me?  No.  But a few years back a good friend of ours lost his dad to this exact disease.  I remember the anguish his family felt from losing such a good man, a devoted father, a loving grandfather.  They felt cheated.  It seemed so senseless.  He was a seemingly healthy person.  Why did this happen?  Because of a decision he made as a young man during one summer.  One summer.   He took a job at Johns Mansville.  A manufacturer that produces asbestos-containing products.

When I clicked on this link, I was impressed with the site and the message it sent.  I got to the very bottom of the page.  Where I had to choose one out of three plates in which I had to write a fear on and then “throw” into the fire.  So, I clicked on a plate, and then sat there for a minute.  Thinking.  And thinking.  What was I going to write?  I’ve never had cancer or anything that I was truly, deathly afraid of.  Besides, what fear of mine could be worse than having cancer come back?  So, I left the site.  Because I didn’t feel worthy.  But my mind kept going back to it.

So, here’s where it gets “funny.”  I have an email account that I created just for my momfeld stuff.  For some reason, I suppose because of the whole peri-menopause thing going on or just because I probably have adult ADD, I forget to check it.  I hadn’t checked it in a week or more.  I finally remembered today.  There was an email from a woman.  The one with the plate site.  Asking if I would tell her story.  Talk about Lung Leavin’ Day.  I felt honored and more than happy to do it.

This brave woman lost a lung to this disease on February 2, 2006.  Mere months after giving birth to her child.  When you go to her site, you can read her story and how she got this disease.  It’s amazing.  Every year, on the second of February, Heather gathers together with her closest friends and family for Lung Leavin’ Day.  Where they throw their fears into a bon fire.  What better way to rid yourself of all that you are fearful of?  All that could be holding you back?

After I thought about it for a while, I realized that my fear can be anything.  Fear of public speaking.  Fear of heights.  Fear of writing a book.  Whatever the fear, it’s your fear.   It doesn’t matter how big or small.  So, please do me a favor.  And yourself.  Because it’s important.  And hell, it feels good.  Go to her site (which is really creative and cool) and write your fear on a plate.  Then go ahead and smash it into the fire.  It will feel good.  I promise.  Because I went back there and wrote a fear and smashed that plate.  So I know.  It felt good.  And I’m doing it again.  On February 2nd.

This disease is a killer.  Heather beat the odds.  Honor her and all who have suffered from or succumbed to this disease.  Click on the plate.  You won’t regret it.  Oh, and spread the word.  Thank you.

lung leaving' day


The Death of a Habit?


I was on Facebook today and I saw that a friend posted this article about the dangers of drinking. Here is the headline:

Even Moderate Drinking Linked to Increased Cancer Risk

Oh dear God.  If this is true, then I am a dead woman.  Basically, the article talks some shit about how even having a glass of wine a day can increase your risk of getting cancer by, well, a lot.

I am one of those people who has a glass of wine every night.  Ok, maybe not EVERY night.  Let’s say the average month consists of 30 days.  I drink wine about 28 days a month.  And about 22 of those days I have more than just one glass.  The odds are not in my favor.

So here I was using the excuse to drink red wine because it was really good for your heart and since I have high cholesterol I thought it was great because I would just have a glass of wine with my steak (total run-on sentence — sorry).  Except now the cancer risk outweighs the heart healthy part.

It’s funny because my mom has been telling me for years about this cancer/alcohol link.  I pretty much just roll my eyes and open a bottle of my favorite Cabernet.  You have to understand something about my mom.  She reads everything and watches CNN like it’s the only show on TV. So, every “new” development that comes up, which is pretty much every day, I’m sure to know about it.  The most ridiculous thing like breathing can cause lung cancer.  Ok, I’m kidding.  But shit, everything gives us cancer these days.

If I listened to everything my mom told me, here are the things I would have to give up:

  • Cooked meat  – Have you ever had an uncooked hamburger?  Yum.  Watch out for those tape worms though.
  • Sun  – An oldie but a goodie.  Slather on that lotion.  Or be pale and cold.  Your choice.
  • Mouthwash – In lieu of the recent study, this one should be a no brainer.
  • Vitamins  – Yup.  This is a new one.  Those antioxidants are serious bad boys.
  • Body lotion – Yes, even body lotion.  It can cause breast cancer believe it or not.  So, do we slather on lotion to avoid skin cancer, or go out in the sun without it to avoid breast cancer?
  • Alcoholic beverages – I have nothing to say except it just sucks.

So anyway, now that I’ve actually seen it in words, I’m suddenly freaked out.  Like, really freaked out.  I even went out to lunch with the family today and didn’t order a glass of wine.  That’s unheard of.  For some reason, I think any time I sit in a restaurant there is this rule that I have to drink wine.  So, I ordered water and I didn’t actually die.

Ok, so I can give up body lotion and mouthwash.  But wine?  There are no words.  I think I’m in mourning.  I’ll start my mourning on Monday, with my New Year’s Resolutions.