(no subject)

You knew this already, but my friends are geniuses.

Happy National Poetry Month. Here's another poem, the one I did for the poem-a-day challenge today. I will, of course, be sending a copy to my mother:

I haven't got anything
that didn't come from you
my cells, earthen knitting
minerals and sunlight
the spit on a thousand tissues
the voice in my head that wonders

you wanted me,
always,
and danced at the news of me
I don't have to stretch to find
the source of my joy
that I am in the world

I haven't got anything
that didn't come from you

(no subject)

Off for my final scan, but this is a placeholder to remind me to wax verbose about how I think that privilege is made up of good things whose distribution is unfair, but how the reason it's called "privilege" is because it's made up of stuff that we all should have. And stuff.

Okay, gotta go get my inner self photographed now. Buh-bye!

(no subject)

So you know that whole, like, cancer thing?

So over that.

At least for now, anyway. The Big Scan(tm), she is over, and everything's where it's supposed to be, and nothing's where it's not supposed to be, and the doctor said one of the nicest things we cancer patients like to hear, which was "See you in a year or so." (My endocrinologist will probably see me sooner for blood tests and other monitoring, but yeah, no metastases, even with the Big Scan, so are we happy? Yes, we are.)