We just got back from a walk and decided to pick up the mail. Lo and behold, there was an envelope from our attorney...
The PSA shoot made for a unique afternoon. Normally I would have been sitting at my desk typing away on my computer gleaning warmth from the florescent lights and space heater. Yesterday, I was experiencing something new and fighting cancer. The shoot mostly involved standing around staring at the sun. Well, not the sun exactly. But the camera was up on a ladder so we had to stare in the general direction of the sun. So I will be the tall brunette in the yellow shirt winking at the camera. You can't miss me.
My dad also braved the journey into the Pearl district as well. (We burb dwellers believe the world ends at the tunnel.) We laughed when we were asked to sign "talent release forms." Ha, talent. If they only knew. At one point we were marvelling at the real actors who were exchanging cards and discussing agents. I told him I would be his agent but that I would expect 10% off the top. The sun must have been getting to him because my typically frugal father told me he'd be generous and give me 20%. Such a deal! Since we were "paid" in the form of a bright yellow Livestrong shirt, I'm waiting for my 20%-of-t-shirt-payment. That's got to be like a sleeve or something, right? I'm totally worth it. Through my brilliant agent skillz, he nearly got a speaking role. Okay, we were just standing there staring at the ground when he was asked to say "livestrong means never giving up." But as his agent, it is my responsibility to take credit for this breakthrough. Unfortunately it didn't make it onto film. And as his agent, it is my responsibility to blame him for that. Darn talent.
The most amazing part of this experience was discovering that the entire production was dependent upon the generosity of many talented people. Everyone involved donated their time in the name of cancer advocacy.
People are good.
THIS JUST IN! Holy moly Dad got a call back. He'll be speaking after all. I guess he has one of those trustworthy faces! Mom says he's the next Paul Newman. I can't wait for my 20% of his line of natural foods!!!
THIS JUST, JUST IN! My Mom is full of beans...
My friend Katie posted info about a PSA shoot today in Portland for Lance Armstrong's LiveStrong foundation. They're looking for extras and since I've always considered myself to be extra-everything, I must go! So I'm ditching work early in order to make my small screen debut. Supporting cancer research while being in a commercial. Will wonders never cease?
Now, I must go buy new pants. I cannot be in a commercial amidst throngs of people whilst wearing old, baggy jeans now can I? I know no one will be able to see me let along my OBJ (old baggy jeans) in the commercial, stop lecturing me already. Sheesh. But I will know that I was wearing OBJ. So there. What? It makes perfect sense to me...
After our whirlwind trip to La Pine, my left eye was twitchy and red. I decided that was my body's way of telling me to get some sleep. So for the entire week, I skipped my morning workout and slept in. But I continued to make good food choices hoping to offset the lack of workouts and keep any weight gains to a pound or two. I forced myself out of bed the last two days to work out. After eating a slice of pizza and 2 bread sticks at our Papa's Pizza fundraiser yesterday, I knew I needed to get a good sweat going. Nervously I stepped on the scale this morning and was overjoyed to find that I lost a pound! So now I only have 5 lbs to go until my goal! Or until I revise my goal...I haven't decided yet.
When I got my new haircut, I also decided to break down and buy a new pair of jeans. You know, a whole new look. I went to Nordie's and asked the first salesperson I saw to point me toward the longest jeans they had. As we approached the rack, she asked what size I wear.
"I don't know," I responded.
I'm sure that answer could not have been any more annoying.
"Well, what size do you NORMALLY wear?" she asked.
"I really don't know. I've recently lost quite a bit of weight and haven't bought any new clothes in 6 months. I would guess a 12 or 14?" I replied.
She glanced at me sideways, muttered her congratulations and pulled 3 pairs of jeans for me to try on. As she ushered me into the fitting room, she told me that she pulled a 14, a 12 and a 10...just in case. I laughed and rolled my eyes. Of course I started with the 14. Too big...I heave a sigh of relief. Then on to the 12. A little loose in the legs but not bad...I dance a happy little jig. Just for grins, I think I'll try on the 10. I'm sure it won't fit but I'll see how close I'm getting.
HOLY COW, IT FITS!!! The 10 freakin fits! And I can breathe and everything! I haven't been a size 10 since high school so I couldn't have been happier if it was a size 0. At this moment, the salesperson returns to see how I'm doing. I fling open the door with a huge smile.
"Wow, those look great," she says. "Which size are they?"
Sheepishly I respond "the 10."
And at that moment, she could have brought me ANYTHING in a size 10 and I would have bought it without question.
A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G.
Fortunately I had a haircut to get to. So I bought the jeans, cut off the tags, walked directly to the restroom, put them on and walked to my car feeling lean and strong. So this is what all that sweating was for!
Remember the good ole days? When KFC was still Kentucky Fried Chicken? When restaurants had smoking sections that were in the same open space as non-smoking? When kids could stretch out in the back window of the Buick during a long car trip?
Okay, maybe those weren't the good ole days after all. We were practically sticking our tongues out at death on a daily basis. It's a wonder we managed to live this long really.
So now we avoid trans fats and second hand smoke. Our cars have air bags and car seats have five point harnesses. The world is once again safe. Right?
Wrong.
Losing a child to cancer could easily send me into a downward spiral of germ phobia. And yes, I am admittedly more germ phobic than most. But I'm not quite ready to give up indoor plumbing for a life apart from civilization in the great outdoors. A girl has her limits. There are so many things that we know cause cancer. The aforementioned second hand smoke for example. Naturally, we avoid those clearly identified cancer causers. Naturally. But what is a girl to do when everything seems to carry a cancer warning label? EVERYTHING I tell you.
I belong to a yahoo group through our adoption agency and recently someone asked about the risks of nightlights. Apparently they heard that they were bad for kids but couldn't remember why. Being the complete moron that I am, I turned to the almighty world wide web for answers and promptly googled "nightlight dangers". And of course the words "may cause cancer" immediately popped up on the screen. What else would I expect? I think I could google* "butterfly dangers" and "may cause cancer" would appear. But back to nightlights. It seems that our bodies need darkness to produce melatonin, a hormone that prevents cancerous growth formation and development. Permanent bright light suppresses the production of melatonin. Now logic would say that nightlights are not bright lights. And logic would also say that a study conducted by the Russian Ministry of Healthcare should not be trusted. But logic, my friends, disappeared somewhere around the time my darling girl was diagnosed with cancer. So bye bye nightlight.
Next came the Canadian study revealing the risks of Bisphenol A (BPA). Apparently the lovely little ingredient that makes polycarbonate plastic clear and shatter-proof also has this minor side effect of causing cancer. And since most parents enjoy a clear, shatter-proof baby bottle, most manufacturers use polycarbonate plastic in their baby bottles. Again, I turn to my friend the world wide web for answers. With Lillian, we used the BPA-filled, fancy schmanzy Avent bottles recommended by our pediatrician. Our son, being the lazy sucker that he is, refused to use these hand me down bottles and instead uses the economical Playtex drop-ins. Not even the more expensive Playtex Premium drop in system, just the plain ole original bottles. Well two pats on the back for being cheap...uh I mean, being FRUGAL, because low and behold, our bottles do not contain BPA. Phew.
Then last week I decided to check out a package of Seventh Generation Chlorine-Free diapers. The earth-loving members of the adoption yahoo group had many discussions on their love of 7th Gen diapers. Apparently they work great and are better for the environment. So for once, I turned to the package for answers instead of the world wide web. But the same stupid words - "cancer causing" - practically reached off the package and slapped me in the face. Apparently the chlorine used to make our dear Huggies a beautiful shade of white also produces dioxin, a known cancer causing pollutant. So we are, of course, now the proud owners of a package of chlorine free diapers. And chlorine free wipes may be next! So much for those great bulk buys from Costco.
If we have learned so much since the good ole days, just imagine how the world will change by the time our children are parents. They will look back and wonder how they managed to live through their childhoods filled with polycarbonate bottles, chlorine bleached diapers, nightlights and WHO KNOWS WHAT ELSE!!!
I will try to stay sane but not take unnecessary risks. Believe me, that is a very fine line. Does anyone know of a bubble for sale that we can live in? Anyone?
*I have to giggle that the blogspot spell checker indicates "google" is mis-spelled. Blogspot is a service of Google. Shouldn't they recognize the spelling of their own company?
Click on this link and be sure to watch the video.
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