"Basically, my radiation ate your thyroid." It's the radiation oncologist. "Actually, it usually happens before now." Cancer...she just keeps on giving. Do I cheer mine lasted longer under the radiative onslaught that devours female thyroids? Can we get a hip-hip? Actually, I'm happy with the news. As all the cancer girls know, when something is… Continue reading She Just Keeps On Giving…
Author: Duchess Diaries
Owner, Creative Director of Duchess Diaries.
Her Favorite Season Is Football…
Nothing on earth is as sweet as a Duchess Doll. They send over all manner of funny, interesting, goofy and unbelievable stuff. One of the faves sends a message: "These lyrics are so great; IDK if you like country music, but this song immediately made me think of you." Whaaaa? Doll has sent me music.… Continue reading Her Favorite Season Is Football…
Donuts Feed The Soul…
Saturday was National Donut Day. At long last, a day to honor a food deserving of accolade. Can you say Krispy Kreme? Much commentary is devoted to the little fried orb of goodness including, "in your face sweetness and all you taste is grease and sugar." Is there a problem with that? If a donut… Continue reading Donuts Feed The Soul…
Lurking In The Background…
Cancer lurks in the background of life, whether it be survivors or survivors of loved ones. It's always within arm's reach. Each follow up test, which go on forever, brings it full circle again. And then there are the others. In a meeting. I know a co-worker has missed some days and is behind in… Continue reading Lurking In The Background…
Eat Pizza and Annoy Men…
For some reason this little tidbit, circulating for a while, only just hit my desk. Biological chickens of the female variety have a private Instagram called, "Gals," in which we exchange interesting fare we find searching about when we're supposed to be working. Calm down bosses, it's brain food. Yesterday, Middle Chicken sends a photo… Continue reading Eat Pizza and Annoy Men…
What’s On Your Anti-Bucket?…
Oldest Chicken does something out of bounds each year on or near the anniversary of The Norwegian's death. Perhaps he thinks if he drives himself to the brink he'll be closer to his beloved father--who knows. What I do know is we have an agreement--tell me after. I've heard about being at the top of… Continue reading What’s On Your Anti-Bucket?…
Calling All Murderinos…
In eighth grade, my mother told my father I was obsessed with death. Perched in my spying spot just outside the kitchen, I was stung. But I shrugged. Smug with overinflated beliefs in my own brainpower, I knew where her concern lay. It was with the sonnet, Death Be Not Proud, the famous ditty by… Continue reading Calling All Murderinos…
What’s In Your Bag?…
Lunch with the ladies. "Does anyone have a tissue?" Handbag rooting ensues. Yes, indeed, there is a tissue. Few minutes later. "Does someone have an Advil?" Bag rooting ensues. Of course, there's an Advil. Third times a charm. "Does anyone have a safety pin?" Laughter, along with rooting, and safety pin for an errant bra… Continue reading What’s In Your Bag?…
Cry Baby…
When you are a widow and you've had cancer, people inquire about your well-being often. Those journeying through life with grief in our handbags appreciate the ask. So do the cancer girls--really--I've asked them. Throw in a job, clients, back to back events, crisis communications, two cats, three kids and two upcoming weddings and the… Continue reading Cry Baby…
Coaching? You’re On Your Own…
Something about my face must say, "Give me advice. Whenever you feel like it. About any subject." I don't generally think I give off a helpless vibe but I get everything from how to change a tire (like I would ever) to setting a table (girl, please). Giving advice? Can you say superpower? Generally about… Continue reading Coaching? You’re On Your Own…
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