The stuff I haul around

I used to travel really light when I went out. Wallet, phone, keys, and maybe iPod, each one in one of my four jean pockets. But when I got an iPhone it was too big to easily fit in a pocket anymore, so against my preference I started carrying a bag. And when I started carrying a bag, I started carrying more stuff in it, because stuff expands to fit the size of its container. :-P It took me a long time to find the sort of bag that both suited me functionally and aesthetically enough to overcome my distaste of extra luggage to haul around and keep track of. Right now I use a small black leather backpack that I bought in a thrift store last October. After wrecking my brown leather shoulder bag, nothing else really seemed to serve for daily convenience, so I bought this, and I think it's finally the appropriate look and style for my needs.

On a typical day, it contains:

- My iPad, with its magnetic Bluetooth keyboard
- My to do book, a moleskin notebook with my endless to do lists in it
- My current writing notebook, which right now has an old-fashioned map of the world on it and was a gift from Bernie's parents
- My clutch wallet, red crocodile leather
- My ballet shoes, the nice new pink ones Mom gave me for Christmas, so I never forget them when I have to go straight from work to class
- My lunch, usually leftovers from last night, in Tupperwares wrapped in plastic bags to prevent spilling
- A hairbrush with a hair band wrapped around the handle
- A tube of hand lotion, to deal with dry winter skin
- A reusable shopping bag, folded up inside a little tube-shaped case
- An orange highlighter, for marking off completed tasks in the to do book
- Assorted pens

I used to carry more things. My prescription sunglasses, for example, and a little case with, like, coins and lip balm and supposedly useful cards. But changing from my regular glasses to the sunglasses is enough of a hassle that I never bothered, and I never remembered to use anything in the case, so I quit carrying them to lighten up on the junk I hauled around with me. Sometimes I bring a charger cable, but not always. I honestly kind of hate stuff as a concept, so I'd like to be burdened by as little as possible. But I'm finding that this is about the right amount of I need to have with me to be prepared for my daily life. So I guess I need to undertake the arduous effort it takes to keep track of my own damn stuff. :-P

Tenderly, tenderly

Mom had a bad CAT scan. Her lung cancer has not only grown but spread. It's in her adrenal gland, her lymph nodes. And her brain tumors are back. Can't repeat the big treatment again. There's so little left that she hasn't already tried. Anything they do now is a shot in the dark; they don't know what to do at this point. Going to spread more and shut down. Lymph nodes is bad. Lymph nodes is a death sentence.

Of course it's all a death sentence. Feels almost silly, melting down now. She's always been under a death sentence. We were sure she was doomed two Christmases ago, and here she is a year and two months later. We should be grateful. She got five years with the deadliest cancer there is when her initial estimate was four months. We should be grateful. What did we expect? THAT'S CANCER. What did we fucking expect?

But I'm not grateful. It's not fair. We expected her to have a full life, to get old and see us get married and have kids and succeed in the world. Not get eaten alive by sickness. Now's when she's going to get dragged under. I know I've said that before and we had miracles, but she's got no strength anymore. Not after five years of the chemo and the drugs and the creeping sickness.

No, that's not quite right. She's proved so physically tough that she won't even have the mercy of going quick. Her body is probably going to hold on until she's a wasted wreck. She's going to get so weak and sick and helpless and it's going to be drawn out and she's going to hate it and be miserable and it will be awful.

"Oh, but tenderly, tenderly, Lord. Day by day and week by week you broke her body on the wheel whist she still wore it. Is it not enough?"

When is it going to be enough?