Is this the furry face of a monster?

He looks all sweet and innocent, but deep down, this guy has a problem. An addiction or compulsion really and if he had the ability to understand me, I'd try an intervention on him. His addiction? Plastic.

I'd start with "Attila, your addiction to plastic has hurt me in the following ways:

You chew through plastic bags containing carb-laden food that I love. The holes you create then allow the others in your pack to pounce on the food inside leaving a nibbled, soggy mess.

If makes it impossible for us to leave out anything that crinkles and isn't a cat toy.

You have gone into my purse--my purse!-- and taken out plastic Ziplock baggies of tampons. Okay, I admit it. It's funny to see your furry, guilt-stricken face as you try to scamper off with the bag between your teeth."

Yesterday morning Chef said  "Honey, Attila left you a present out here." as I was getting up. Typically this means the occasional hairball or perhaps something coming out the other end, but that morning it was an actual tampon that he had nibbled through the top of the plastic wrapper of. He has a fascination with all feminine hygiene products. I know it's the plastic, but I also think they have a different smell that attracts him.

Weirdo. I guess until Jeff VanVonderan is available for cat interventions, I'll just have to be more protective of our plastic and my tampons.

The Generation Without a Generation: Mine

A few weeks ago there was this big long TIME magazine cover story about Millennials. The gist of the story was that yes, they are every annoying think you think they are, but they also aren't so bad and bring good things into society.

He needs a good kick in the
shins.

It seems like the same story that gets dragged out every 15 years or so about the newest generation that has a catchy name and annoying characteristics. This one loves selfies, social causes, feels entitled, has helicopter parents who gave them an inflated sense of self, is growing up in an era of instant millionaires and a case of increasing celebrity worship.

A few years ago, TIME did a piece about how Generation X was getting shafted because they were sandwiched in between the baby boomers and the millennials, and therefore their impact on society is being seen as diminished.

But what about the rest of us?

Depending on what you read and which marketing agency is spewing out the data, I, and therefore a lot of my friends, am in the middle of the generational sandwich. Not really an Xer and not a millennial either. I witnessed but really can't relate to the meaning behind the plethora of flannel and moping that seemed to define the 90s. Remember "Reality Bites"? I saw that movie a lot, but still wanted to kick Ethan Hawke in the shins for being such a dipshit with numerous jobs that he thought he was above (wait, what generation am I talking about here?). The reflex is still there and I have a fear of running into Ethan Hawke in person and just kicking his shins until he outruns me or my feet hurt. Because we know that Ethan Hawke won't have any security.

I also never got most of the music of the era. Not really a grunge fan and didn't get the hoopla around Nirvana. But I respected that it was a statement. Although other than being angst-y and whining about making a lot of money that wasn't making you happy but continuing to crank out said music to make the aforementioned money, I'm not sure what the statement was. I also know that there aren't a ton of those type of 90s-era bands that are still kicking it today.

Millennials are a different breed as well. I like social media, but I also like talking to people in person (despite what Chef might say on occasions when I check my phone too many times during dinner--it's a shitty habit, honey, I'm sorry.) I expected to start at the bottom at my job and let my hard work set me apart and move me up. Rap has lost its appeal since it lost its naughtiness and I don't think that everyone has a right to own designer shoes (although I would probably support any political candidate that had this as a platform).

So that being said, what  about us?

We are the generation without a generation and I'm not sure that's such a bad thing.

I Feel Pretty....At least on the surface

You know that adult acne has reared its ugly head when your husband sees a picture of you in college and says "Man, your skin was good." 

The cystic blemishes and knowing that my period was going to bring about more visitors than just Aunt Flo really sucked. But I have to say that it took me to this moment: appreciating my current (fingers crossed) blemish-free face. 

I am able to put my makeup on every day only worrying about covering up any dark circles under my eyes (thanks, genetics) or not sweating off my foundation before I head out the door. The second has been a real problem lately. My bathroom isn't that steamy, but I seem to develop a tiny tan Hitler mustache on my upper lip right before I trot out the door. I spent most of my drive to work (at least the stoplights) trying to blend it back into my foundation and blasting air conditioning straight onto my face. 

But I digress, the face is looking good. Notice I didn't necessarily say that my skin is clear. But I feel like my everyday makeup is gliding on (and most is staying on and not sliding off with my morning sweat) and doing its job. And instead of wondering when this streak will end, I will appreciate this stretch--however short it might end up being. 

Could I get a double mastectomy?

Technically, the answer is yes. If it were discovered that I had a genetic predisposition to breast cancer that would make it virtually inevitable that I would get it, I would physically be cleared to get a double mastectomy.

The bigger question is: Could I?

This seems like an easy answer: yes. My mother suffered for three years with breast cancer and I was there to witness a lot of it. Why would I NOT choose to get my boobs cut off if they were killing me?

I have always had a certain amount of vanity around my breasts. When you're the fat girl in a group, you use what you have, and unfortunately quick wit and a love of sports didn't help me lure the dudes in. I knew the fact that my boobs grew slightly more than my stomach no matter how much weight I gained was one of my body's saving graces. Even at my lightest, I've never been devoid of large chesticles. It's genetic.

Just like cancer. So when Angelina Jolie made news last week by doing a voluntary double mastectomy, it made sense to me. She had also watch someone suffer and once you've seen that in someone you love, you will do anything you can to avoid. Not necessarily just for your personal pain and discomfort, but also to spare those you love of seeing you in pain and discomfort.

I commend her for making the bold choice which only seems bold because she is known for her physical beauty for her job. Her livelihood but not her life, and that's where I'm glad she made the distinction. I've never been a huge Angelina Jolie fan, but this choice kind of wiped out the vials of blood and kissing her brother craziness of her youth.

So back to the question, I physically could get a double mastectomy. I think I would mentally have a lot of anguish but in the end opt to do it. So what else is left? The one thing they don't necessarily talk about in Angelina's case: financially being able to do it.

The test for BRCA1 and BRCA 2, the genes that can determine the elevated risks for breast and ovarian cancers,  costs about $3,000 and is not universally covered by insurance. Elective surgeries, despite preventing millions of dollars in healthcare costs for insurance companies compared to actual cancer, are also not always covered. And plastic surgery in the case of an elective surgery is yet another elective surgery.  It's a sad, but true, state of healthcare we are in: intervention is covered, prevention  not so much.

So for me the question is could I potentially cover the estimated $68,000 or so it would cost if my insurance didn't cover it? Should this type of testing and subsequent procedure be covered? Shouldn't everyone have this opportunity?

My Wednesday Off

Maggie and Matthew with Chef and Me.

Chef's grandparents ("granddad and Maggie") came into town today while on a West Coast cruise and they were nice enough to hitch a ride from port to the Farmer's Market with more family, Art and Lorna, to have lunch with us. The invite alone was enough of a reason for me to take the day off, so that's what it is.

It's a rarity to have a day off in LA on a weekday, and so I decided to take full advantage, in my weird way. I got up earlier than I do on work days, worked out, and headed to traffic court. I got there almost as soon as they opened to make absolutely positively sure that my ticket was dismissed (and it is now, but it was a good thing that I went down there). I then went to the grocery store, and just had time to unload before a very lovely lunch with the Loars. It's always great to catch up and I love hearing stories about what Chef was like as a kid. I don't get those enough :)

After that, we went to get some lovely orchids, because, well, why not? I found this one that looked like it
had painted leaves. I didn't see any other like it and so it had to be mine. Now to not kill it. . .

A wonderful, relaxing day off. Now back to work for two more days.