The curse of the small town.

I saw my doctor today: my doctor, not Richard’s doctor, not Trixie’s doctor, but my doctor. Dr. Foster doesn’t know Richard. She knows of him, but that is all. I had convinced myself that this was my final refuge: the last place on planet earth where I could play the medical patient extraordinaire. (My surgeon goes to church with Richard. I knew I couldn’t really convince him that I was the 'medical patient extraordinaire'.)

I was wrong. Dr. Foster first words were, “I heard about Richard. How is he doing?” It is the curse of the small town. There is no escaping reality.

To say in Dr. Foster’s defense, she really cares. Every time my eyes misted over, hers did too. I really like her.

And Richard is exhausted. Two weeks down, four to go. It is grueling. His taste is wacked out. He says water tastes horrible. His appetite is gone and he has heartburn. But the exhaustion is the big thing.

But, he has decided he wants to go back to his 40 year reunion from Catholic University in late September. I am all for that! Yee-haw, trip back east (DC and New Jersey… and some places in between!)

I’m sorry.

I forget from time to time that many of you are not worldly enough to be familiar with the provenance of coffee cup delineation conventions. I will give you a rudimentary introduction.

First, there are three broad categories: Demi Tasse, Norme Tasse and La Tasse Grande – Small Cup, Regular Cup, and Real Cups! I’ve never dealt much in Demi Tasse, but I have a reasonably sized (not large, by any extreme) conglomeration of Norme Tasse, and although my La Tasse Grande is limited in numbers, it is powerful in scope. It was a finalist in last year’s CA (Cupper’s Association)’s award for excellence. Yes, I am very proud.

For each of the three broad categories, there are three “Rubique de Stockage”. “Rubique de Stockage” doesn’t translate well to real life, but it is something along the line of “Worth in Life”.

There is the Attic Dwellers. They are the downtrodden, the abused. When you hear of a coffee cup revolt in the Middle East, you know it came from the Attic Dwellers.

One major step above the Attic Dwellers is the, Seen but Not Used. They are the ones given the respect to be viewed by the public, with no chance of a sweet kiss. They gather dust. You really don’t want to have mouth-to-mouth contact with them.

And above the Seen but Not Used, are the cups in The Rotation. Think about it… there are 3 or 4 hundred cups in the house. Eighteen get into The Rotation. There is major jealousy and anger when one is replaced. (It was Astoria Column that was replaced by Bernadette of Lourdes. If you get mean and nasty emails from the Column, you know it is because he has accessed my email account.)

There are some shades between the categories, like Yogi’s revered status, but I hope you all have a better understanding of the critical issues of coffee cup delineation.

Thank you.

Richard is still okay.

I’m not meaning to sound like I’m going soft on religion.

But I’ve moved Bernadette of Lourdes into the prestigious coffee mug rotation. She previously occupied the “In view, but never used” position, as opposed to the “in rotation” status she currently enjoys. This is a major coup in the coffee cup community. Trust me, we had some major “cocky” attitudes this evening.

Lourdes and Bernadette mean a lot to Richard. To Richard it was worth two days in Iceland: we worked out a compromise.

He lost. I loved Lourdes. I don’t think you could say the same about Richard and Reykjavik.

Added bonus

I got to see Abby & Steve!

1 down, 5 to go.

It wasn’t a bad week. Well, not for me. But I didn’t have back surgery or chemotherapy or radiation. I did have a nasty hang nail, but I’m guessing that ain’t gonna grab me no sympathy votes.

Richard is okay. He’s not bubbling with energy and he isn’t loving life right now, but he is okay.

And me, I started mowing the lawn for the first time this year. I like to think of it as harvesting the wheat!

And don't ask me why the picture is sideways. If I knew why, I would have fixed it.

What I learned today.

Mrs. Laurer, (yes, she is real) got out of the hospital today. One of the times I was scampering in, she was being assisted out in a wheelchair.

At times, Trixie has an iron bladder. After 13 hours home alone, she really didn’t want to go outside.

Chemotherapy is not a spectator sport. The actual dripping of the drug is really tedious. It is much like watching grass grow, but without the warm sun on your shoulder. But, there is a camaraderie that I hadn’t expected.

And no matter how logical it may be, it just doesn’t seem right to leave your partner at an apartment in Portland, as he begins a very trying treatment for a serious disease. But Richard doesn’t want to spend three hours a day in a car, when there are these delightful apartments right across the street from Providence. He will come home for weekends, and I’ll go in and see him.

Richard is well.

Come back, Edith Bunker!

Another one of the greats from my youth has passed.