I'm De-Loitte-ed to Be Here!

Started the new gig on Monday. Two days in a very snazzy orientation program where I learned how to get around, where things are on a top-notch intranet, who does what, how to get technology and communications. Today had my first meeting with my two key bosses, the Deloitte regional managing partner, and the head of marketing for our region.

I'm loving the fab building downtown, shown here. Deloitte just moved into floors 36 through 45 before Christmas, so everything is brand new. I'm on 45, totally styling. Anyway, very glad for a new year with a new job. And it's a 2.3 mile commute. More than that, for the first three days, my driver has dropped me off and picked me up; I'll figure out parking next week.

Icing on the cake is the number of people I know from old Andersen days. I don't think I've ever been hugged this much in a new job. Or probably any. But this is fun.

Bulletins as they occur.

The Next Rule

Ok. Y'all. I've been married 23 years. I know. Many of you lose bets every time the calendar passes 12 October ("A day of great discovery," said McCabe, when he proposed. To which I replied, "Columbus thought he was in India." But never mind.)

So he's been sick for a few days. He isn't sick often. He works out, which keeps viruses and such burned out of your system. (Did you know that?) And he isn't around a lot of people every day, so he doesn't touch doorknobs, elevator buttons, and other surfaces that harbor bacteria (ewww). But he's had a virus, obviously.

Nevertheless, he is now well. Or at least on his way. And he has been in an absolutely filthy mood all day. Why? I DO NOT KNOW. Am I the one who had a SUCKY New Year's Eve? Am I the one who missed going to my favorite place--my brother's house in Helotes? Am I the one whose fifty-f*****g-fifth birthday passed UNNOTICED? Am I the one who starts ANOTHER new goddam job on Monday and is stressed beyond speech?

Yes to all of the above.

So why is HE the one who is all pissy?

I don't know either. But here's the rule.

My next husband is a hologram. That's it. Don't even think about an alternative. I'm done.

New Rule

My next book will compile all of my important rules. You know, like "No one can get inside anyone else's marriage." And, "We don't drink at lunch." Important stuff like that.

So here's my new one: "To determine how long it takes to get over a hangover, take your age and divide by 20. Round up. Multiply by 12 and add 5 for each 20 years of age or fraction thereof."

Example: If you are 20, it takes 17 hours to get over a hangover. (20 divided by 20 = 1 x 12 = 12+5). Got it? If you are 60, it's 60 divided by 20, which is three. 3 x 12 = 36 and 36 + 15 = 51, which means you are too old to get bombed, as it takes two days to get over it.

This is Arithmetic, and as the t-shirt says, "I'm an English major. You do the math."

Has Everyone Been to Amy's Blog?

Here it is. Don't miss it. She is posting every story she ever wrote. They are all worth reading and some of them will put you in the floor.

http://amymurphy-amy.blogspot.com/

New Year's Eve Sucks.

At least this one does. Chuck is sick, running a 99.4 elevated temp, spent the night in the loo. Poor guy. Poor me, also. We were going to San Antonio to party at my brother's house. And "party" is indeed a verb at Tom Wente's. Oh geez those people have fun. Anyway I am sorely disappointed to be staying here, probably watching Ryan Seacrest and Fergie wheel Dick Clark out right at midnight eastern.

Sigh.

Happy New Year to everyone anyhow. I think it's going to be a heckuva year.

Good News But I Cried Anyway.

This past Tuesday was my two-year mammogram. I made an "A." That means that I'm now officially a "two-year survivor." We've discussed before how much I dislike that survivor term; I prefer "unwilling participant."

Anyhow, Tuesday came and went. Happily. We had Carol and Rob for dinner and I played with my new stove like it was a Barbie doll. Also played "set the table" for a couple of hours, thoroughly pleasing myself. C & R brought gifts and good wine, as usual, and we had a lovely evening catching up with them.

Wednesday I went back to MD Anderson because I didn't have time on Tuesday to get my Zometa infusion -- this is the study drug I'm on that builds up bone density torn down by the Arimidex (the super anti-cancer oral drug that I'm on for the next three years). Zometa has also been shown to further lower the recurrence rates in HER2 cancer patients, so that's another plus. I'm on a 36-month study, infusion every three months.

I bopped up to the infusion clinic, whistling Christmas Carols, blackberry in one hand and a grande non-fat chai in the other. Got to the waiting area, sat down, surveyed all of those very sad people in various stages of illness, looked into the eyes of their anxious caregivers, heard the hushed tones of fear and worry, and burst into tears.

I was just so heartsick for all of them. I wished I could tell them that they'd be ok. I wanted to show them my hair, how pretty it is, and to tell them how hard I'd sobbed when it came out in my hands in the shower. I wanted to tell them how I'd gone hiking three weeks after finishing chemo and how hilarious it was that I was immune to the swarms of mountain mosquitos, and how hilarious it wasn't that I almost didn't make it down the mountain. But I did make it down the mountain, and I wanted them to know that. I thought maybe it would help. Or maybe not.

I finally called my brother to tell him my good news from the previous day, and got myself straightened up during the call. I also told him that there is a big New Year's Eve party at his house again this year, even though he hasn't yet extended an invitation to any of us. Stacy and I have already decided we're going, so he and Cheryl need to get ready.

Merry Christmas everyone. If you read this blog, you are part of the reason I celebrate this year.

Dick Cavett says it just right.

Follow this link to read his marvelous essay, "The Wild Wordsmith of Wasilla."

http://cavett.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/11/14/the-wild-wordsmith-of-wasilla/?em

On the recent election . . .

A conversation with my friend Jim-the-Republican. He says, "I guess you're happy with the results of the election."

"Are you kidding?" I ask. "My hangover lasted for two days!"

"What a coincidence," replies Jim. "So did mine."

Sweet Caroline!

We lucked into Neil Diamond tickets on Tuesday night. We had a SUITE at Toyota Center and the old guy can ROCK! It was lots of fun. Here he is, taken from my cell phone. Thanks, Fred, for thinking of "mom and dad" when someone gave you the entire suite!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Well that was a fast month!

What's going on with anyone? I just go to work, come home, eat, and go to bed and then get up the next day and go to work, etc., etc. My sister Carole comes to town next week and she has a booth at Quilt Market! We're pretty excited about THAT! Here is one of her small quilt designs; she sells the patterns to quilt shops across the country, and we are hoping to find her some national distributors at Quilt Market. The weekend after Market is the International Quilt Festival, which pours more $$ into the Houston economy than the Offshore Technology Conference. (Chuck didn't believe that statistic until I pointed out that hookers don't usually report their income to the Chamber of Commerce.)

Anyhow, Carole will be a guest star at someone else's booth during the festival, pointing to her patterns and looking creative. I am so proud of her.

Normal is just a setting on the dryer

I saw that in a catalog. Thought it was funny. Reminds me of us these days. But we are ok and glad to be home. Power is on, internet and wireless all working, phone ok. No cable, though. All we get is Channel 13. I was so desperate on Wednesday that I tried watching "Wife Swap." Total dreck.

Today I'm at work, and most of my colleagues have their power back. Numerous have roof and tree damage and are trading ideas and resources for roofers and people with power saws.

Anna and Lucy are still without power, as are Terrell and Linda. We've invited A&L to sleep over tonight, along with Mylo the dog who wears his ears inside out. Casey loves him.

yIKEs!!! We've been through a hurricane!

Hi, everybody. Wente-McCabes are ok. Heck, we're more than ok; we're in San Antonio with Tommy and Cheryl! We rode out the very annoying storm with no issues except lost power. But sitting in the open garage, sweating and listening to AM radio, was getting boring. So we packed the dog, the laundry, the contents of the refrigerator and freezer, and a few bottles of wine, and got the flock out of town.

The traffic coming FROM the west on Sunday afternoon was stunning. Also sitting still from about 80 miles west of the city. Glad we weren't going that way. My colleagues at Exterran are reporting in little by little, but we will stay here at Tom and Cheryl's very pretty and very comfortable home for at least another day.

We haven't heard whether we have power or not yet. We would prefer to go home AFTER the electricity comes back on and at least ONE of the Starbucks's up on the corner is open. No roughing it for us.

Anyway, we are fine, without damage or even much stress. We were very lucky.

Sit. Stay. Laugh.

Ok. Funny story. I CONTINUE to encourage Chuck to adopt the short rope leash for dog-walking that I’m having so much luck with. Casey stays close beside me at all times and cannot pull at all. He doesn’t go anywhere and doesn’t even try, because the leash is around his chest, just behind his front legs. It’s GREAT.

But Chuck will NOT use it. He likes the long retractable leash for walking the dog, even though Casey is all over the place, and always trying to stay at the very end of the leash, as far away as he can get. The fact that the leash is retractable means also that it’s EXTENDABLE. By 16 feet.

DOGS ARE PROGRAMMED TO PULL AGAINST SOMETHING AROUND THEIR NECKS. IT’S INSTINCT. I LOOKED IT UP.

So yesterday morning, or maybe Saturday, we walked over to Starbuck’s with the newspaper. I took the shortcut, ordered our drinks, and grabbed an outdoor table, while Casey made his rounds. Anyhow, they arrive and Chuck gets settled, putting Casey’s leash’s plastic housing under his leg as he settles into his wrought-iron chair. Casey immediately notices the two standard black poodles a few tables away and leaps out on his leash to get to them. They start snarling, Chuck lurches forward to grab Casey, his hot coffee tips into his lap, and the slender nylon leash cuts two places on the back of his leg, just behind his knee. And the poodle owner mutters something about poorly trained dogs while Chuck shrieks f-words in front of a whole lot of residents of 77019.

Last night he showed me, for the third time, the slices on his leg. I said, “I know how to not have that happen again,” and he said shut up.

You wanna see something cute?

My big brother and me, circa 1960.

Call for Entries: Pat Needs a New Tagline!

I think we'll all agree that "Pat Gets It Off Her Chest" remains a fine name for this blog. However, the tagline needs revising. I am now so OVER breast cancer, literally and otherwise. Tired of it. Fini. Gone. Done.

SO, any ideas? I'm open to suggestions. Please post your best--or worst--idea. You know how I am. And, thanks in advance.

From my brother-in-law John Norlander

Would you forget your roots?

My friend Ann says, "After the untimely passing of Tim Russert, many tributes honored him as a man who never forgot his roots, never forgot where he came from." She goes on to say, having recently seen a photograph of the people she went to high school with, that she WISHES she could forget where she came from! And then [this is so Ann-like], she worries that Karl Rove might consider her elitist.

We of course consider Karl Rove a child molester, but that's beside the point.

Here's today's survey: have you ever been to your high school reunion? If yes, more than one? Would you go again? Take the poll! You may also answer in an essay. We love stories about people who act up at high school reunions, don't we, Ann?

Finally got our exciting vacation photos online!

By popular demand . . .

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=yhzfa9a.8oy2d54a&x=0&h=1&y=tpdzde&localeid=en_US

La Machine!

Last night McCabe and I were whirlwinds in the kitchen. We made a rice salad and the shrimp basil pasta salad in just under two hours. The rice salad involves LOTS of chopping and the second one starts with "a basket full of fresh basil leaves." Also lots of chopping and prep. Book club is tonight at my house and I am READY. Except of course I haven't read the book.

Well you can't do everything.

My best guacamole

In case you needed the recipe, here's the one I made at Rita's.

Pat's Guacamole

2 ripe avocados
1/4 c. white onion, chopped fine
1/4 c. your favorite salsa (I have to say there's nothing wrong with Pace's)
1 T. lemon or lime juice
1/3 c. finely chopped tomato
1/2 c. fresh cilantro, chopped
Salt

All measurements are approximate, but these quantities will get you started.

Cut the avocados in half longways. Twist the halves apart; one side will have the seed in it. Whack your heavy knife blade into the seed and twist. It will come out. Scoop out the insides with a spoon.

Put the avocado into a serving bowl with the onion, salsa and lime juice. Mash with a fork until it's as smooth as you want it, but don't puree, that's gross. Stir in the tomato and cilantro. Taste for salt and add some. You'll need it.

Serve.