A new year

I've written before that I have several new year markers in my life: January 1, Rosh Hashanah, my birthday, and of course August 20 -- the day I got the news that my cancer came back. Each day has its own special moments.

On January 1 Rik and I share new year's predictions with friends. We predict on movies, politics, sports, and anything else we can think of. (The next year we check to see who was right.)

Rosh Hashanah brings time in synagogue, meals with friends, and casting off our troubles at Alki Beach.

My birthday, November 15, is fun with friends and sometimes family joining the celebration. I am a true Scorpio -- volatile and passionate in too many ways. The years have mellowed me somewhat. I think family especially would agree with that.

August 20 is the one day in the year I send a giant, Bronx cheer/raspberry (tbbbbh!) to my cancer. We have a party every year. Sometimes it's only a few friends. Family have been here. At momentous anniversaries such as the first, the fifth and the tenth, we've invited more people. I try to serve my favorite foods: dark chocolate (vitamin CH! gotta have your daily dose), whipped cream, champagne and potato chips. If you don't get the combo, it's not worth puzzling over. I will say that I've never met a fried potato that I didn't like.

For 2014, I want to revisit a cancer dream I had almost 11 years ago. I dreamt that I was in my house, but a wild party was going on, and I wanted it to be quiet in the house for Rik, who had to wake up at 5:30 AM to teach. I ran from room to room, asking the partygoers to quiet down.

After I awoke, I realized that the house was my body and the noisy partygoers were my cancer. So I decided that the cancer could stay as long as it was quiet. If it acted up, I would bring on the tough stuff. Basically it's been on the quiet side for 11+ years now, and I hope it stays this way for a long time to come.

And those are my thoughts on the new year.