Halloween

It was a crisp, clear fall night

A perfect time for a fright

With friends who aim to delight

While the band rocked with all of their might...

And little goblins had their fun too

Hitting the 'hood up for sugary goo

At lights-out they cried, "We're not through!"

Look out, they might come next for you...

But pumpkin-carving brought the most joy

Creating gourd art with our kid convoy

One question for you, I don't mean to be coy,

Which one was carved by our 10-year-old boy?...

Luckily it came back benign

Turn 40, get mammogram...

Get compression mammogram (yes, they can compress more than a regular mammogram)...

Get a phone call from the doctor recommending a biopsy. (Which, as I mentioned above, came back benign.)

My dear and highly skilled surgeon needs to work on his sales pitch, though. For this is how the biopsy was presented.

"You'll check in at the hospital and be taken to a room to change into a hospital gown, undressed from the waist on up. You will then lie down on a table right up next to a mammography machine. Your breast will be positioned into the machine and held in place while photos are taken. Still in this position, with your breast in the aforementioned vice grip, the radiologist will insert a needle deep into your breast tissue to remove as many micro-calcifications as he feels are needed to examine by a pathologist. He will check the specimens under a microscope, not freeing you from the device until he is satisfied that an appropriate sample has been removed. The process takes about an hour and half."

(at this point he noticed my face had lost color, I noticed the walls moving in on me)

"You will receive valium," he added, as if that would make it all better. Which it did.

But the best part was the benign path report. A great way to wrap up breast cancer awareness month for our home.

Substitute Teacher

I have a degree in Human Biology, not Education. But that does not stop my kids' grade school from calling for occasional emergency substitute teaching from time to time.

This time it was the music teacher called away at the last minute who needed backup. I agreed to an afternoon-only stint, threw on something prettier than my yoga pants and planted myself in the music room.

First-, second-, and third-graders paraded in and out of the room thrilled for fresh meat (me) and surprised at how their sub (me) did not tolerate excessive noise (them) well.

But then the preschoolers waddled in. Delightful, happy, easy-to-please, these little creatures politely filed to their seats, excited to watch a DVD for our 25 minutes together.

"Elmo Presents Peter and the Wolf" held the attention of these delicious human nuggets with the exception of one little toe-headed boy who had some concerns.

With the lights dim and the movie rolling, my soon-to-be friend waddled across the front of the room to ask me a question.

"Do you think they will have a real wolf?" he whispered between his pudgy cheeks.

"I doubt it," I assured him. Temporarily confident he was not about to witness a Muppet massacre, he made his way back to his seat. For about two minutes. And then he made his way back.

"Do you think Elmo will be the wolf?" he again whispered wide-eyed.

I was impressed with his mental casting, but I did not know the answer. "I'm not sure," I replied, "why don't you go back to your seat and watch the show to find out?"

Perhaps distracted by the private Q/A session, perhaps oblivious to it all and full of questions themselves, a number of hands flew into the air. I quietly offered that anyone with a question come to me rather than disrupt the movie.

Four kids immediately evacuated their chairs and lined up before me. Led by my friend, there for a three-peat.

"Did you know Elmo and Telly are friends?" he asked.

"I did!" I answered with quiet but undeniable enthusiasm. Off he went.

The next child had stepped forward, mouth open but with no sound coming out.

"Do you need to think about your question?" I asked. A silent nod and pivot turn, and the child went back to the movie.

A serious-faced tot stepped forward next.

"I can't concentrate on the movie with all of these people talking."

"I agree," I answered. "Go on back to your seat and we'll all watch the show."

Finally, a precious little girl with big blue eyes and cherub-like cheeks stepped forward.

"I love you," she whispered earnestly.

It was the sweetest thing I'd heard all day. I considered gobbling her up, but I was pretty sure her parents wanted her back. So I simply replied, "I love you too."

40

Bono and I both have better hair now than we did in the '80's. And "40" rings even more beautifully today than it did back then...