I hope nobody gets the idea that I think my daughter won't kick this cancer thing. That is the farthest thing from my mind. I've seen too many people, some with really horrible cancer, come out the winner.
I just wish she didn't have to go through all the stuff you have to endure to get rid of cancer. I do realize that chemo isn't as bad as it used to be. Also, I'm not even sure she will have to have chemo; all I know is, she has a port. It's like I said before, she just doesn't have time for all that junk.
I should probably explain what my grandson meant when I quoted him in the previous entry, because it wasn't a disrespectful thing. He meant that I don't give a... let's say hoot, yeah, that works... I don't give a hoot about appearances, especially mine. I run around in faded sweats or T-shirts and really don't care who sees me. Sometimes I need to be reminded to comb my hair. I've never bothered with makeup. Cliff follows me around constantly keeping the size tags shoved inside my shirts so they're not hanging out for the world to see, like the tags on Minnie Pearl's hat.
It's this same attitude that allows me to live in an old mobile home and be content, as long as I can look out and see God's creation. I just don't care about the things that most people worry over. None of that "stuff" seems important to me.
I have embarrassed Cliff a time or two when people would be gushing over a new house, showing pictures of every nook and cranny and sharing all the details, and I failed to show any excitement. I just can't get excited over a house. If you want to see enthusiasm out of me, let me see your new Nook or Ipad. Give me a new computer and I won't leave the house for days. Show me a bargain price on a gentle, bred Jersey cow... that will get me off the computer and on the road.
I also get excited, as you've probably noticed, when one of my flowers blooms, or when somebody gives me a mess of morel mushrooms.
I have strange priorities. But when it comes to certain things, I DO give a... hoot.