Monday, June 08, 2009
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Monday, May 04, 2009
[As we pass KFC on our daily commute.]
Belle: I just remembered this dream I had last night... about eating fried chicken... That's terrible.
Travel Buddy: No, that's the best way to do it.
Belle: What? Eat fried chicken? In my dreams?
Travel Buddy: Yeah. Do you feel satisfied?
Belle: No. I feel like a fat girl. Who dreams about eating fried chicken?
Later that day, I smell the tell-tale scent wafting through my cube. Frat Boy has brought in some sinfully delicious looking wraps featuring (you guessed it) fried chicken.
I jump up and leave my cube faster than a crackhead splitting at the sight of blue lights.
An hour and change later, I return, thinking I've safely avoided temptation. I open the door and walk into our department only to be faced by another colleague sitting down to enjoy a delectible smelling meal of (again... you guessed it) fried chicken.
Without a viable excuse for escape, I have to resign myself to whining via chat as I suffer through the excruciating scent-sation.
Belle: The world is against me. I just got back from my avoid-the-fried-chicken lunch and the dude who sits by the door is eating Popeye's.
AJ: This has to be a sign.
Belle: A sign of what?
AJ: I don't know. Tell me more about your dream :)
Belle: Well, fried chicken was featured briefly in a previous dream of the evening, but I managed to avoid it. Then, in this one, you and I were hosting some sort of small gathering.
The caterers delivered two HUGE platters of fried chicken, and you're all "This isn't for us. We need to call them and have them get it"
And I'm all, "What are they going to do with it? They'll have to throw it out. We should just keep it."
And then I'm biting every drumstick in sight.
Just one bite from all of them, mind you, but still biting all of them.
I think it's a sign that I'm sick.
AJ: Or pregnant. or...
Belle: Nope. Not preggars. At least that test said no... ;-)
AJ: Or it might be a sign that you're not ready to commit to one guy yet. You want to test the waters. You know they are bad for you, but you're eating them/using them/playing with them anyway.
Belle: Oooh... Now there's something I hadn't thought of. I was too busy thinking of the food to think what it might represent... You're brilliant!
I'm still dreaming of fried chicken, though.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Tomorrow, we walk.
We walk for the countless who've been affected and the countless who will be. We walk for those who have had and who will have no choice but to fight. For their families and friends.
This year, I walk for my friend's mom, designated mere weeks ago with stage four inflammatory breast cancer. She means the world to my friend. My friend means the world to me.
Every day I hope her story ends with remission, hope, a future. Every day I battle doubts and fears that she may not. I can't imagine being in my friend's shoes. Having to deal with those doubts and fears multiplied to infinity about the person in the world who means the most to her.
This friend of mine? She's the reason I walked last year. For months, we trained for the walk and raised funds for the cause and spread the word about prevention and early detection to our friends and loved ones.
Still, despite it all, her mom was diagnosed not quite a year after our many-miled march through DC/VA/MD with one of the rarest and most aggressive forms of breast cancer out there.
I know no one who hasn't had to deal with the far-reaching, negative effects of cancer. And I'd like nothing better than to see it eradicated.
So I walk. So we walk. In the hope that more stories will end with remission, hope, a future. In the hope that this money will aid prevention efforts, result in us seeing fewer cancer cases. That our efforts will help those working toward finding a cure succeed in their mission.