"ACCEPT YOURSELF"

At about 4:30 am, I was having a dream that I was talking about my brother's recent travels in South America (fictional), and how I suspected he'd brought back a strange frog with him. As I was describing the dream, I heard the frog flapping around, so I turned off the lights and tried to find him, hoping to return the frog to my brother, nearly 1,000 miles away (not fictional). So I was in the dark, trying to find a frog (Dunno why I thought being n the dark would help my chances of finding the frog) and dreamed that he (the frog) suddenly started flopping around and jumping all over, so when I (not dream me, but actual me) thought something hit my chest, I woke up and jumped out of bed with a little scream. Kitty meowed and hopped onto the dresser, I flipped on the light and quickly realized, after shaking out all the covers in a dreamy-haze, there was no South American frog in my apartment.

I read a magazine for a bit until my heart rate returned to normal, then fell back asleep and started dreaming about trying to get crated artwork on a plane as a carry-on with a group of people.

Hi kids, how the effing eff are youse? So, I suppose I should catch you up:

Turns out, Needle-In-Chest/Lung is less pleasant than Needle-In-Boob. But, I'm okay. I'm always okay. I don't have breast cancer and I sho' don't have breast cancer that got over-ambitious and fashioned itself into lung cancer. I don't have anything. I'm good, great even, and I am over needles for the time being.

Speaking of boobage, check out what Goaty sent me: Right here. It's funny how this boob ordeal has changed my thinking a little about boobs. Stuff like this is really amazing to me all of a sudden, where it would have probably just been too-lame-to-think-about before. Now, I get this feeling... having played out scenarios in my head of being boobless, and brainstorming every think I possibly can to keep them just on and healthy, boob slings and implants and shit, outside of a reconstructive purpose, just really seems so extra weird to me, like listening to people speak a language I can't speak at all.

Anyway.

I got a lot done in the past week, most of which I'm proud of, and I have two fun new projects coming up you'll hear about in the next couple of days that I'm super-excited about. As for now, I'm caught up for the time being, so I'm going to sit and write on manuscripts and chill.

But!

I'm still looking to make my website, Guth-a-Go-Go, look like Alton Brown's website, and need a web dude or dudette to make that happen. I don't need anyone to maintain it, per se, just put the bones up and make it rad and I'll keep it updated. That much html I do know. Please, please email with rates and time frame and we'll work it out. So long as it doesn't involve whoring myself, I'd even be willing to work out a trade of some kind. Anything. I just need to get that website hoppin' with a quickness.

"I KEEP MINE HIDDEN"

I sometimes am hesitant to link to jewy things here because, you know how it is, everyone has their own reasons for finding meaning in anything and none of us can speak for anyone but ourselves. So, when I link to something, to provide explanation of some kind to you, my dear readers, I really try to link carefully because there are so many, many, many explanations online and every explanation offered up is, you know, right and okay and valid if someone finds meaning in it. So, I try to find a general, straightforward, no-frills, somewhat journalistic explanation and link to that (Which, let me tell you, is harder than it might look.) and figure that if anyone wants my two cents, for whatever reason, they'll ask. Just had to say that.

That said, dude, I totally almost spaced out on Tisha B'Av (The most continuously unforch of days) but managed to salvage it at the last second. Oops. Anyway, to my fellow Heebs and Heebettes, I hope you're having an easy and meaningful fast, if that is your bag and you are fasting today, or having a meaningful experience, however and whatever parts you observe. And, hello, you know I'm always pleased about a clean-the-house holiday. (Old custom to clean your house on the afternoon of Tisha B'Av. Long story. Just take my word for it.)

Anyway, how are all of you? Gosh, I've been a little busy lately (see previous paragraph), but it's all very good stuff that I've been up to. A couple of new gigs, a new direction for a project or two. I still feel like I don't have much to say after that not having breast cancer thing but who knows why really. Things just seem so good and kvetching seems petty lately. When I'm saying I don't have much that needs reporting, I mean it. No news is really fucking great news, folks. That's for sure. This very smooth sailing, no-drama, healthy living, smiley, easy-going shit is the best.

But, I was wondering earlier today about how hard it must suck to have the job of wearing the mascoty, animaley suits at theme parks because I overheard a woman talking about a recent trip to Disneyworld. Yeah, I think it probably would suck pretty hard.

Oh, and I did see a dude today wearing white glasses. White glasses. Yeah. Unforch.

"THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT"

UPDATE: I'm back. I don't have breast (or any other) fucking cancer. And, if ever anyone wants to stick a needle into your boob, see if you can negotiate that. Kidding. Very kidding. it sucked, but it felt good to leave knowing the 411. Anyway, it's a relief. The sun is shining today, so I'm going to go enjoy it. But, go ahead and read this post, all that was on my mind before I knew that.

You know how people have big life-changing experiences, and say they've changed forever and can't take another day for granted, but then a few weeks or months down the road, they're right back to being a self-involved düsh? I wonder what the world would be like if we really did learn and grow from terrifying experiences? What if, when things happened to us that frightened us to the bones, it really did become the very last day we ever took for granted?

I didn't sit down to blog this morning. I sat down to just write. But, as I started to write, it felt like a blog post to me. So, here we are.

I'm having a follow-up blood test in about two hours. I am healthy; I don't have any reason to worry. I have a predisposition from the ol' gene pool, so I am proactive and screen routinely and it's always been totally fine. It's probably just an error this time. No biggie at all. It's nice when people say Oh, it'll be fine, and it probably will be, but I have, after all, lived long enough to know that sometimes healthy people get sick, and sometimes bad things happen to good people, as the cliche goes. It's probably 95% likely that I am healthy as can be. But, you know how it goes, people do sometimes get sick, people do sometimes get bad news, routine health screenings are how bad things get caught and subsequently dealt with. So, I'm not freaking out, thinking this is a big drama. No, I'm really just sort of thinking of the possibilities, which I think is pretty human. If today brings ungood news, I am going to deal with it and not be a wimp or succumb to negativity or any of that shit. If there is any ungood news at all, which there probably will not be.

But, who wouldn't play the what-if game? Mermaidhead will read this, working in the medical field as she does, and roll her eyes and tell me it's nothing and tell me to educate myself. Which I have, to the best of my ability. Of course it probably is nothing, but it's not impossible that it's more than nothing. Not impossible.

But there isn't anything I can do about it right now, two hours before this blood test, except do what I do best... get it out, write it down, write it out.

I went to shul last night. I didn't mean to. I mean, wait, okay. I was going to go to shul and get a little dinner with Leah, then I cancelled because I wasn't feeling like I would be good company, and this news of possibility was only a few hours fresh to me, so I was iddly about it and feeling tired under its weight. So, I cancelled, and started walking. I walked and walked and ended up in front of a different Temple and services were about to happen, so I went in. It's like I always say: I don't go to services to beg for divine favors from the ether, I go to sit and just be and think and see how I fit into the world and its situations and how I can best think of my circumstances, how quickly circumstances could change, be glad for things as they are, get a little perspective, find a strange comfort of connectedness in the familiar Hebrew filling the room that I know by heart, and to feel a group of people around me-- not just the people in the room, not even just Jews, per se, but the people that I know and the people that I probably don't even realize care for me as much as they do. Sometimes sitting in a room full of people makes me feel isolated and awkward, but other times, it reminds me I have friends and family and chosen-family all over the place that love me and have my back, and if the shit hits the fan today, or if the shit does not hit the fan today, I'll do whatever needs to be done and work it out and I'll be okay.

I sat near the back and felt calmed as the Rabbi sang the familiar Hebrew. As she (the Rabbi) moved from tune to tune, I was shocked to hear a man following along, horribly and loudly. People turned around to smirk and hear this guy belting everything out, myself included, but really, as I sat there, I started thinking about this guy. He didn't give a rat's ass how well he sang, or who heard him, or what ears he offended. He was committed to being there and being completely uninhibited and singing with chutzpah and getting into what he was doing.

Maybe he already had a life-changing experience and really did change forever and decided there was no point in being pastel, in doing things half-heartedly. Maybe, he spent years wishing he could sing out and never did and one day he said fuck it and went for it and never thought twice...? Maybe so.

I left and started home and the air was cool and nice and smelled sweet like summer is supposed to smell, or how I remember it smelling when I was a kid. As I was nearly home, I saw a car with a bumper sticker that only said love wins, and although it really didn't have anything to do with me, it did and it made me glad to have seen it, like seeing a familiar face in a crowd.

Anyway. Wish me luck. You guys know how I fucking hate the fucking fuck out of needles. And bad news.

On second thought, I don't need luck. It's going to be fine. No matter what.

"I WILL SEE YOU IN FAR OFF PLACES, OR, UH, MAYBE NOT"

My eyeball is totally doing this. Only on the outside half as opposed to the inside like this illustration shows. Bleh. Many of you know how creeped out I am by veiny, vesseley things. Bleh. Bleh. Bleh. I keep feeling my hands get weak and the tops of my feet feel precarious when I catch sights of this freak thing in the mirror.

Luckily, a little Googling seems to indicate that it isn't serious like this. And, the list of things that contributed to it can be narrowed down to one very good possibility:

"The use of alcohol or certain anticoagulants can contribute to a subconjunctival hemorrhage during the coughing or sneezing episodes."

I say this: When I sneeze, I sneeze again and again and again, rapid fire. So, let's consider that I've been in a different flora area sneezing my head off and hanging out, going out every single night... well. I think we have our answer, no?

I've got sneezy-boozey eye.

"I DON'T OWE YOU ANYTHING"

Ive decided to focus on my health and my money this month. Not, exclusively, of course, but you know, I think I just want to make sure I'm in good shape in both arenas. I've had a terribly busy few weeks, okay a terribly busy month and I realize that I have been so consumed with work that I have let other areas of my life slide a little. (Half of you shake your fists at me as you read that I'm sure because I know I owe you face time.)

So, I'm sitting here having a delicious creation with miso, brown jasmine rice and so many other organic bits of deliciousness that I prepared for dinner and I just got copies of my credit reports. I am good about checking my credit every year but it never fails that I get so nervous just before taking a peek. Could it be that I base some of my self-worth on my credit score? Eh, a lot of us probably do that a little. I mean with words like creditworthiness floating arund, it's hard not to get your sense of worth caught up in it all.

So...

Just before I peeked, I said to myself You, Amy Guth, are a good person and people like you and you do nice things and your karma is good. No matter what number you are about to see, you are still a good, valuable person and you are surrounded by people who care for you very much. Then, I looked, jumped up and shouted, with such might that a pen went flying, my cat jumped, my cellphone shot across the room, and my chair fell to the ground, In your face, FICO! That's right! Mama works, bitch! Ohh, snap!

Ahem.

I mean, I, uh, am pleased to report my credit is to my liking.

As you were.