WTF

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Me to Tom: Hey, will you take a picture of me in my AWESOME fox tights?  I have to post this for the world to behold.

[Lark enters the room]

Me: Lark, will you take a picture with me in my fox tights?  [Underlying motive: to not be alone in my fox photo - make it a little more casual.]

Lark:  No thank you. I'll pass. What are you taking the picture for?

Tom: She's going to post it to Facebook for self-validation based on the number of likes she gets. 

Me: [losing a bit of my foxy mojo]. Come on - let's just take the picture!  

[I assume a camera-ready pose. Tom snaps the picture.  We look at the result.] 

Tom: Whoa, your head and neck look like a Pez dispenser!  Bad angle! 

Me: Argh!  Let's do another one. 

The result:

Yup, check out those tights.  On the curve of woodland-critter-apparel adoption, I'm an off-the-charts early adopter. Case in point, my all-time favorite squirrel sweater dates back to, date I say, 2001. Yup, I was intarsia-ing it way before my time. 

Oh, wait. Could it be true? It couldn't be. Did I hold onto that sweater long enough for it to come back in style?  Am I just riding the wave of the latest fashion trend, not actually creating it?  Darn it! 

WTF.  What the Fox. 

--------

Happy Thanksgiving, Friends!  Gobble, gobble!  Love, Lisa

The Interview & Lost in My Mind

The Interview

I had an interview the other day with a recruiter for a full-time position that peaked my interest.  I haven't had a formal interview in years and I was looking forward to learning more about the company and position, which I certainly did.  Here are some of the highlights: 

1. In summarizing where I thought I would be in 5-years, he said, "Is it safe to say that you don't really know?"   I had to stifle a laugh.  I replied, "Well, I think about it a little differently.  While I don't know exactly where my career will take me, I know I'll be doing something I enjoy."  
2. He also mentioned that they were looking for a woman between the ages of 30-35 (because the company is "man heavy") , but that I was a good candidate so he didn't think my age would be a problem.  He said this with a straight face.    
3. Finally, he said that he had a friend that lived in my neighborhood and that, "Is it safe to say that you live well below your means?"  Water flying out of my mouth all over the place (not really, but it would if I could).  My response: Just staring at him and letting the weight of his words really sink in.  Still staring.

Let me translate the above for you:

The company is looking for a young, smart female that they can underpay.    

All in all, it makes for a good story and a great example of what NOT to say during an interview (or in life in general).  I think the guy had good intentions, but wow, his execution was ever-so-flawed.

Lost in My Mind

I love how music can sum up a mood so well.  I recently asked for some music suggestions on Facebook and got a bunch of great ones.  "Lost in My Mind" by The Head and The Heart (thanks for the suggestion, Caroline) is the song of the day.  Yup, I'm lost in my mind yet again, thinking about what's next in life.  I've been a little weepy lately and have been feeling that super, heavy feeling of sadness in my chest.  Not all the time; just when I stop long enough to let my emotions catch up with me.  Anyhow, I found out that I'm not the only one who's feeling unsettled and teary, so maybe it's just this time of year as we transition from lightness into the dark, quiet womb of winter.  It is such a good time for reflection.    

  

 

Here I am in San Francisco Again

This time it's for work, not a Phish concert. But let's not talk work, let's talk breasts.  

I had my exchange surgery in August, where they removed the expanders and placed my "permanent" implants.  It was a day surgery, so Tom and I were home by 11:30am.  It was nothing like the mastectomy.  I was back to my normal physical self within 5 days.  Emotionally it took me a little longer to regain equilibrium.  I, like many women, placed a lot of importance on doing exchange surgery and sort of held it up as the end of reconstruction.  It's disappointing to learn that for most women, including myself, there are more surgeries needed to make everything look right.  

I ended up with Gummi Bear implants which are anatomically tear-drop shaped and are semi-solid, so if you cut into one, it won't leak everywhere.  When you get a mastectomy, they remove all of the tissue so you're left with skin that's as thin as your forehead.  So, unlike recreational implants that have some tissue to buffer them, mine do not, which leads to some rippling under the skin.  My next surgery will involve fat grafting to fill in those ripples.

All in all, it really hasn't impacted my overall happiness.  I'm grateful I'm cancer-free.  Let's keep it that way!  I also don't have any pain associated with my implants as many women do.  I'm adjusting to the Tamoxifen (hot flashes aren't that bad). 

And I look normal in clothes.

And I can hug people and I don't have those hard tennis balls on my chest anymore.

And Alice thinks one of my scars looks like a smiley face.  She thinks the other one, which is a straight line, looks "serious." 

Here's to life and sending prayers to the people who really need them in the Philippines and other disaster-stricken areas.  May they find shelter, food and a place to rest their heads.  

Love,

Lisa

Hello from somewhere between Minneapolis, San Francisco and madness

Tom and I are on our way to San Francisco for our first weekend alone since we had Alice 3-1/2 years ago. It's about time, right?  I can't wait to sleep in my own queen bed!   Just kidding - sort of:).  When I'm sleepting at home, I usually end up contorted in some pretty crazy positions trying to accommodate the dog, cat and Alice on my side of the bed. The absurdity of it always makes me smile. Here's how the night usually goes: I go to bed before Tom at around 10:30-ish. He slides onto his side of the bed soon after. The cat usually curls up on my back or stomach while the dog curls up on the rug beside the bed. Sometime between midnight and 1am, the dog gives a soft bark at the foot of the bed which translates to, "Move the quilt so I can lay at the end of the bed."  I'm not sure why she decided she didn't want to sleep on the quilt, but somewhere along the line I figured out she wanted to be on the sheets. So, now I'm curled on my side with my feet of the dog and a purring cat on my side. Then along comes Alice sometime between 4am and 7am, "Can I sleep with you Mommy?"  Why not?  Everyone else in the house is. So, I pull her onto the bed, spoon her and kiss her soft hair. The cat is purring on my back and my feet are snuggled into Dubbie's fur. It's a 360-degree hug! 

So where's Tom in all of this? He's smartly established that his side of the bed is off-limits to kids and creatures. And crazily enough, everyone honors that. Well, except for the cat, but it's written in the Cat Code of Conduct that it needs to lay where ever it likes, especially when someone is allergic to it. 

The Passing of a Mom in our Carondelet Community

We said goodbye to Faye Ryden this week after a courageous battle with ovarian cancer. She's the mom of one of Lark's classmates and left behind three daughters and a husband. Faye was one of the first people I met when I came to the Carondelet community as "Lark's dad's girlfriend".  I wanted to get to know some of the moms, so I signed up to be a Brownie Troop leader for the first grade troop. Faye and I were one of 5 moms who led the troop for several years. She was an easy-breezy person who was a joy to be with.

Tom and I went to the funeral this past weekend (Lark was at a friend's cabin) and it was lovely and intense all at the same time. My heart broke a few times over watching John, Faye's husband, and girls. What a surreal experience for them. And the funeral is just the beginning of  it. They had a reception at the Bakken afterward. It was great to see many of Lark's classmates there along with their families to support and mourn with the Ryden's.

John and girls,  we have you in our hearts and prayers. 

Nicole Ryden, Lark's classmate, releasing butterflies with the help of friends
at her mom's memorial service. 

The Cape

We did our annual pilgrimage to Cape Cod in the beginning of July to spend a week with the Pinney Cogan families. We started the trip with a couple days in Boston that included lots of sweating (it was humid and in the mid-90's), a trip to the public garden the see Mrs. Mallard and take a ride on the swan boats and dinner in the North End. We read the book "Make Way For Duckings" for a few weeks leading up to the trip.  (If you don't know the book, click here for more info.)  Alice was on high alert looking for her when we got to the park. When she figured out Mrs. Mallard and her ducklings were statues, she was a little disappointed that she "wasn't real."  But when she figured out that she was swimming in the duck pond with her babies, she was much happier and seemed to be okay with the fact that Mrs. Mallard only speaks Duck, not English.

This collage  of us meeting Mrs. Mallard and her ducklings and Alice watching Phish
 live on Tom's phone is courtesy of Lark.  

After our fun in Boston, we headed to Cape Cod to spend a week with the Pinney Cogan's. As always, it was one of the highlights of our year. We don't do much except sit on the beach in most types of weather, with the exception being pouring rain, and talk about what we're going to eat next. It's pretty darn nice. We're lucky that Frank and Alice, Tom's parents, are still going strong. We're also lucky that all of Cogan kids, Albert (age 16), Grace (age 19) and Shannon (age 22) still want to hang out with us for a week. I guess the same holds true for Anne and John, Tom's sister and brother in-law, and Joyce, Tom's sister. I suppose they could opt out, too. I'm sure they don't dare because the trip gives them an opportunity to load up on funny things I unwittingly say and do that come back to haunt me all year. Mostly it's just John. He's a funny guy. Just ask him...he'll tell you (he's actually hilarious and I will stop writing so the "mother f'er champagne" incident doesn't come back to bite me in the tush.)

In addition to eating, drinking and hanging out, this year we worked on doing some cool braids. Check 'em out. I've since cut my hair, so no more braids for me. 

Lark in the upper left, Shannon in the upper right and me on the bottom. 

The "Can't Take it with You" Tour

Tom and I invoke this saying whenever we make, or are thinking of making, a big expenditure. We've been taking a look at our life and what we want the next 10 or so years to look like. One thing I know I want to do is live somewhere other than Minnesota for awhile. It can be domestic or abroad. We've been noodling on how to make that work. In an ideal world, we'd like to have a lot of time to explore (probably rules out a full-time job) and have access to good schools for Lark and Alice. I also want to be able to take Dublin with us.  We'd like to rent out our house while we're gone.

One idea that came to me when we were at one of the Phish concerts this weekend (Oh, we're now on the plane back to MN and we went to see Phish in San Fran) was the idea of being long term house/pet sitters. That takes care of our living costs and gives us literally a home base to explore a city. We're thinking Northern California or the Pacific Northwest. We'd love to do Europe, but I've read it's difficult to get a dog in the country - maybe I'm wrong?  I could keep doing some consulting stuff on the side and Tom could just run his newly acquired business, which I think I'll have him ghost write about another time.  

Back to the Can't Take it with You Tour - let us know if you have thoughts, ideas or know someone who needs their house watched. We'd also be a live in family nanny to an only child. We'd need our own living quarters and would need to have a family who wants their child to be folded into ours. It's probably someone who never really wanted kids but had one because it seemed like the thing to do.  We'd be happy to take that little one under our wings and spend ample time swimming in the indoor pool or at the private beach. And yes, we cook organic meals, read, love outdoor adventures and limit screen time. We're your perfect Fam-nanny! 

Let me know if you've got any leads for us or other ideas. The crazier the better. 

Almost Forgot...Heath Update

Can you believe it's been 6-months since I had the mastectomy?  It seems much longer. I'm doing and feeling great.  The second and last stage of reconstruction is scheduled for August 19th. I originally had it scheduled mid-July and then thought better of possibly ruining part of summer. This surgery entails removing the tissue expanders that are currently there (they look and feel like a couple of apples on my chest) and replacing the with (hopefully) softer and more pleasing looking implants. Recovery is supposed to be pretty easy compared to my primal surgery. No drains this time and no hospital stay. Woo hoo!  And yet I'm sort of dreading another surgery and the downtime associated with it. 

Other than that, I'm just taking my Tamoxifen which gives me lovely hot flashes along with so either side effects I don't need to go into here. It's not quite as bad as when I started it - maybe I'm getting used to it?Anyhow, the alternative is much worse than some pesky little side effects. 

Some Pictures

Lark's soon-to-be-new glasses.  She's excited about them.

Look who we ran into at the San Francisco Ferry Building farmer's market.  Mike Gordon, bass guitarist for Phish!  You can see excitement written all over his face.  

A rare photo of us at the San Francisco Ferry Building.  

I made it through two Phish concerts this weekend.  My first show was last year at Alpine Valley, WI.  I have to say that I enjoy the outdoor venues a wee bit more.  It was so darn smokey that I felt like I was developing a case of rapid onset emphysema.  And yes, those puffs of smoke in the picture probably are exactly what you're thinking they are.   

Bathtub Alice.

My garden in the beginning of summer (top) and now (bottom).

More garden pictures.

My Friend Ken: Miss you buddy.

Me, Ken and Alice in Mexico in the Spring of 2010.

Life has a way of hitting you over the head to get you to pay attention.  And sometimes it grabs at your heart and squeezes to wake you up.  What's the message?  I can't tell you what your's might be, but I know if you open your heart to Mother Life (God, the Universe - whatever you want to call it), she will lead you to what you need to know.  

I had one of those abrupt awakenings on Thursday when I found out that my dear friend Ken passed away suddenly the previous evening.  It hit me like a ton of bricks.  Tom and I were going to see Ken in early August in San Francisco.  That lovable, sweet guy couldn't be gone.

After I had a good cry (I was at a focus group moderator training in Rockville, MD.  I let my class of 6 fantastic women know what had happened and then excused myself to let out a good cry.  It doesn't do anyone any good to keep it in.), I asked myself what am I supposed to learn from this?  The message came loud and clear: LIVE LIFE. There isn't always a tomorrow.  

So, I'm yet again examining my life - our life - to see if we're truly doing that.  Am I present?  Do I love what I'm doing?  Am I connecting with the people I love?   Really, it boils down to prioritizing love over everything else.

Ken and I met five years ago in a two year leadership training course called the Art of Peace.  Our group of nine plus our fearless guides opened up our hearts and souls to one another and now have a bond of love and trust that is beyond words.  The course was based on the idea that you cannot bring peace and leadership to the world if you're not at peace with yourself.  Our two years together culminated in a blessing ceremony in Tulum, Mexico.  Alice was just 3-month old when we headed to a resort in Mexico where there was no electricity, it was wicked hot and humid and the mosquitoes formed clouds around any living being.  And it was a fantastic trip.  The picture above and the one's below are from that trip.  Ken and all of our friends helped me care for Alice.  It really did take a village.  One of my fondest memories of Ken from that trip was Alice's bath time.  I had to load her up with DEET to keep the mosquitoes at bay and sunscreen to protect her lily white Irish skin.  I wanted to get off all of those damn chemicals in the evening and all we had was a shower with water you can't drink.  So, Ken and I went looking for a container and some fresh water to bathe Alice in.  We found a busboy dish tub and asked the cooks to boil some water for us.  Ken lugged the water from the outdoor kitchen to the palapa I was sharing with our friend, Sta.   And then we bathed that little squiggle biggle by candlelight as the sun set.  It was one of many beautiful memories I have of Ken and of all of my Art of Peace circle of friends.  

I love you, Ken.  I know you're in a better place, but I'm still mourning the loss of your physical presence. I know you're holding a beautiful space for all of us and will be there to welcome us when our times comes.  

In closing, I wanted to share a paragraph from his obituary that does a wonderful job of capturing his generous spirit: 

"Ken was a very kind and generous man, who sought to make life better in any way he could for everyone he met. Ken was known by all for his overwhelming generosity. If you wish to honor Ken's life, his family requests that you examine your own life for its many blessings with gratitude, and think of him when you meet someone in need that may need your help. Your generosity in his name will continue his legacy of love here on Earth."

Ken Steininger. June 23, 1967 -  June 18, 2013

Uncle Ken delivering bath water in Mexico  (spring 2010)

3-month old Alice getting her bath in a busboy tub. 

Our Art of Peace group in Mexico for our blessing ceremony.

Spring Happenings | Getting Ready For Summer

I've joked a few times about the two people that read my blog (me and Tom).  Well, that's not entirely true, nor is it fair to those of you who suffer through these posts.  Most of my family reads my blog (but not my mom) and some even send me notes to "get off of my sorry ass" and put up something new (thanks, Joyce - one of my awesome sister in-laws).  Since I'm in full disclosure mode, Joyce *never* calls my ass sorry.  Nor do I think I've ever heard her use the word ass.  That's my potty mouth interpretation of her encouraging notes.

So thank you, thank you, thank you to all of your who read this.  That includes you, Dad and you, too, Kristy!  I could list TONS more names but I don't want to leave anyone out, and I also don't want to sound too braggy.  But, I will say that I can trace IP addresses and there are people who are on my friend list and there are some who, ahem, are not (like my mom).   

By the way, Dad, I hope you like your Father's Day gift of a shout out on my world-famous blog.  You're welcome! 

Getting ready for summer.

We've been immersed in end of school activities, which always leaves me wondering why they save up everything for the last month of school?  Why not move some of those activities to April?  Below is a quick snapshot of what's gone on in Lark's last month or so of school

She was in her middle school Godspell play.  It was an intense run-up to the show, culminating in tech week where all of the cast (90+ kids) practice from 5pm-9pm Monday - Wednesday, followed by four performances Thursday through Sunday.  It was an excellent performance.  I marvel at how they folks who run it are able to include every student that wants to participate in it.  Lark was in one of five casts.  Her cast sang and danced two numbers.  She loved being part of it and can't wait to be in the play next year.  Thanks to all of the volunteer parents and teachers who poured hours into making this happen.  You're efforts have not gone unnoticed and are now immortalized on my world famous blog.  You're welcome!  

And thank you Wisconsin Lynch's (Paul, Sue, Andrew, Wendy, Vivi and Henry) for making the trek to Minneapolis to see Larky Lou's performance (damn, I'm not supposed to call her that anymore).  I blame (and thank) you, Sue, for my two day hang over.  I'm no match for your Wisconsin liver.     

Three days after Godspell closed, Lark was off to Chicago with her school band.  She wasn't even the least bit nervous to be staying in a hotel room with three of her friends and no adults.  She had a blast, as did all of the other kids in the band.  And again, thank you to all of parents who chaperoned and stayed up nights patrolling the halls.  You too are now immortalized on my world famous blog.  You're welcome!

Soccer started this past week for Coach Tom and Lark.  It's Tom's third year coaching her soccer team and let me say that he looks damn good in his soccer shorts and old school Adidas.  He's got killer legs.  I wish he was my coach...what was I talking about?  Oh yeah, Lark's playing soccer this summer.

And that brings us to this weekend and Lark's dance recital.  I just returned from watching her practice tonight and I just have to say, "wow."  She just looks so beautiful up on stage - it brings tears to my eyes to watch her.  I love helping her get ready for dance - doing her hair, helping her with her makeup (I'm not much of a help because all I know are lipstick and mascara and it's a casual relationship at that) and doing all the things that moms get to do with their girls.  I love it.

And what about Miss Alice?  She's just as cute as a button and stubborn as a mule.  The other night she reached for my face, held it tenderly in her little hands and said very earnestly, "Mama, I know I'm supposed to poop in the potty, but I'm not going to until I'm this big [arms reaching as high as they'll go]."  She'll change out of her underpants into a pull up to do #2.   Take away the pull ups you say?  Good idea, except then she just does it in her underwear.

As much as I write about the whole toilet training, I'm not all that worried. I know she'll be potty trained someday.  Right?  Please tell me I'm right.  

Last but not least, I have a new work project with a new client.  Well, it's my good friend, Tacysay, who's at a new company that's rocking the franchise world (note: I've cleverly disguised her name to keep her identity a secret.  Lord knows she doesn't need the riffraff that reads this blog bothering her.)  I'm helping them develop the positioning for a new company their looking to franchise.  Position is just a fancy way of saying "Why choose this company over anyone else?"  It's more than that, but I'm getting bored with myself.

Oh, and Tacysay, not only are you CMO, you are now immortalized on my world famous blog.  You're welcome!

  

Angelina Jolie and Lisa Lynch: What we have in common...and what we don't.

Jolie and Lynch: Two hot mamas who refuse to be defined by their breasts.

What we have in common: 

1. We underwent bilateral mastectomies in February and both recovered fairly quickly.  It's an intense surgery but definitely not the worst pain I've ever been in.  And the reconstruction process is pretty miraculous.  

2. We opted for prophylactic mastectomies, that is removing a healthy breast in the name of cancer prevention.  We differ in that I had cancer in one breast and I opted to remove the other to avoid having to go through the cancer thing again.  Why didn't I opt for a lumpectomy?  I could have, but given the size of the tumor (medium) and the size of my breasts (relatively smallish), the lumpectomy would have left my breast very deformed.  Of course reconstruction has come a long way, but it really would never look all that great.  Also, the chances of getting it again in the same breast and the other non-affected breast over my lifetime was significant - approximately a 1% chance increase per year.  I still have a lot of years left, so I was looking at a good chance of a recurrence, which I honestly didn't want to think about.  Removing both breasts reduced my odds of recurrence to 1-2%.  Why is Jolie's risk of breast cancer higher at 5%?  Probably because she kept her nipples, which gives her a bit more breast tissue.  I opted for remove the nipples because it complicates that surgery, there's a high risk of tissue necrosis and/or losing all feeling and I just wanted the lowest possible odds of getting cancer again.    

I'm sure in the not-to-distant future, this will seem like a barbaric choice because we'll know so much more about the breast cancer. I hope that's the case as there is a lot to learn.     

3. Like me, she's chosen to be open about the ordeal so that others can learn from her experience.  I've touched at least three people through my blog.  Thanks Mom, Kristy and Tom for reading.  (Actually, I recently found out that my mom and sister, Kristy, don't read my blog, so really it's just you, Tom.  Spread the word.)

I admire how Jolie released the news about her choice and how she's leveraging her celebrity to educate other women about their choices.  Almost just as important, it's sparked a conversation around breast cancer   research and the need to go beyond just awareness (ala Susan G Komen and all that pink) to come up with more answers and a cure.  Before you get your undies in a bunch, please note that I think Komen's organization has done an amazing job of elevating the profile of breast cancer.  I also think that we're over pinked to the point where it doesn't mean a ton anymore and the focus needs to shift from driving awareness to actually curing it.  

4. We have the means to pay for testing, surgery and reconstruction and think all women should have the same access to make the right decisions for their health, regardless of income.  I quit totaling up all of the bills from my surgery etcetera, but they're some where in the mid-$100,000's.  The genetic tests I had done - the Oncotype DX to determine if I was a candidate for chemotherapy and the Myriad BRCA test - were $7,000 alone.  We have insurance, so we've payed a fraction of that cost, but it's still a chunk of change.  But our finances never factored into my care decisions.  I know it must for other women and it's simply not fair.      

5. We're the same age - well, at least for a few months this summer when we'll both be 38-years old.  I think we're both holding our own.  

6. We both have had the amazing experience of having children - and breastfeeding them. 

Tom and I were done having kids after we had Alice, so I didn't feel so bad about losing my breasts as I already had experienced the joy of childbirth and breastfeeding.  Great job, little boobies!  Thank you!

FYI - I actually have no idea if Jolie breastfed her children, but she seems like the sort of person who would have.  At least that's how I'm going imagine her.  I could do a Google search on it but dear God, can't the poor woman have any semblance of privacy!  

7. Our husbands are uber supportive and both rock the facial hair.  

8. Both of our families have a close affiliation with Fight Club.  Ours is through Miss Alice who's taken to spontaneously whacking me and saying, "Let's fight!" as she pumps her fists in the air and dances around.   

Where we differ: 

1. Jolie has a BRCA mutation which makes her statistically more likely to develop breast and ovarian cancer.  I found out two weeks ago that I do not have the BRCA mutation.  Phew.  That means we don't have an explanation as to why I got cancer.  It also means my chance of getting ovarian cancer isn't through the roof. Unfortunately, Jolie's is.  I feel for her in having the contend with the worry of getting it and potentially contemplating what measures she can do to proactively prevent it.  Monitoring for ovarian cancer isn't all that great, so there are more and more women who have the BRCA mutation that are opting to remove their ovaries.  Ugh.  Not a lot of great choices out there.  

2. I had a tumor; Jolie didn't.  And I didn't have a tumor in my non-affected breast, so like Jolie, I opted to remove my healthy breast (Jolie removed two healthy breasts) in the name of cancer prevention and for peace of mind.

I think that's about it for differences.  We're really very, very similar from the two or so articles I've read about her.  We're like two twins who've never met living parallel lives - I'm the blond one and she's the brunette.  

Enough of that.  And now for some pictures!

Margo (McMahon) Fochler, Me and Lark at the Get Your Rear in Gear walk/run for colon cancer (April 21).  Miss Margo, aka Goey  (like Joey with G) as I like to call her, was diagnosed with colon cancer last fall and just finished up a grueling 12-rounds of chemotherapy.  She's endured it all with grace and beauty.  Yay Goey!  Yay Steve!  Yay all of us who are blessed to have you in our lives.

Did someone say twin?  Geez, I can't believe how much my sister and I look alike!

Here we are on our way to Mexico together.  We had soooooo much fun.  Thank you, Swister, 

for bringing me as your date!

Our little beauties.  Those are our tulips in the background.  All 250 or so bulbs I planted in the fall.