Bald as a Billiard Ball

Well, I have taken the first steps in making good on a promise I made a year ago.  I signed up to become a "shavee" at the St. Baldrick's fund raiser for children's cancer research on March 12, losing my grey locks and going bald.  Ned and I will do a mother-son shaving. It is too early to start asking for contributions, but sometime next month I will post a link to my page and beg readers to contribute something...anything...to help me meet my $500 goal.

In truth, I was thinking about not doing this, but someone just signed the guestbook from my March 9 entry last year, leaving a message for my friend Nancianne, who was being shaved for the second time.  She wrote:

Nacianne, Thank you for being a hero to kids with cancer! My son will be celebrating his 12th year of being cancer-free this March. He first fought cancer at 10 months, and then again just after his 4th birthday. Each time you shave your head, you are not just funding childhood cancer research, you are also sending out a message of hope to families like ours. You are amazing and I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

How could I possibly think about not going ahead with my plans, when I realize how important it is.

I chose two kids to honor in doing this, both children who have died of the disease.  One is a girl named Caroline, who died less than a year after her diagnosis.  I chose her in honor of Peach (Carolyn) and her fight with breast cancer.

Of course my mother says she wants to know how long my hair will take to grow out because she doesn't want to see me bald and she certainly doesn't want to be seen in public with me.  Well.  Whatever.  That's her decision, but I kinda hoped she'd be proud of me for doing something to help children with cancer, but apparently appearances are more important than curing cancer. 'Twas ever thus with her, I fear.

I had lunch with her today and we were joined at lunch by my cousin Niecie, who is a beautician and comes occasionally to give my mother a pedicure.

I'm lucky that she enjoys this time with my mother because I have a mild phobia about touching other people's feet and her toenails had grown very long and something needed to be done.

I had to park a block away from Atria today and this is my parked car.

 
I used to be an excellent parker. I could parallel park on a steep San Francisco hill, between two cars, driving a stick shift. Lately I can't park for love or money. When I parked here, there were no cars ahead of me, no cars behind me and it took me three tries to get it parked this close to the sidewalk.