What Russell and Justin had for dinner. Gives a new meaning to “Hot Doughnuts Now.”
7 comments on Fried Chicken Doughnut Sandwich
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Enjoying afternon tea with Rachel and her mom.
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There’s been a lot in the news lately about how the Susan G Komen for the Cure charity has cut off funding to Planned Parenthood. Maybe I’m naive, but I marvel that we allow politics to interfere with funding women’s health initiatives. Spoiler alert – this isn’t a post about abortions.
When I was in college, I started going to Planned Parenthood. I couldn’t get an appointment at our college student health center for months and I knew that annual exams were important. At Planned Parenthood, I was made to feel welcome, the clinicians answered my questions without judgment, and I could afford the services provided.
My first job out of college was as an elementary school teacher in rural North Carolina. My take home pay was less than $1,000/month. For nine months out of the year. Health insurance must have been offered as a benefit, but I remember not being able to figure out how to navigate the system or how to get an appointment. It was easier and more convenient to continue to go to Planned Parenthood for my annual exams. So I did.
One day after school I received a call at the elementary school where I taught. I remember the secretary buzzing me over the intercom, telling me there was a call for me in the office. It was a crisp fall day and the afternoon sun was shining brightly, highlighting the blazing red, yellow, and orange leaves on the trees. I walked down the puce green hallway and picked up the phone which was sitting on a weathered old wooden desk. The call was from a clinician from Planned Parenthood. “Lori, your pap smear has come back abnormal. We need you to come back in for more testing.”
Those are scary words for anyone to hear, but they felt especially frightening to a young twenty-something who had just started her first real job and who was struggling with just about every area of her life. The follow-up tests confirmed that I had cancerous cervical cells.
At that point, I gave up on trying to be independent and called my parents, crying and scared. They went to church with a woman who had recently remarried. Her new husband was a respected oncologist. He scheduled me for surgery and follow-up treatment back in my home town. We all lived happily ever after.
If there were no Planned Parenthood, would I have discovered that I needed treatment? Probably, eventually. Would I have discovered it in time to prevent the cancer from spreading? Maybe. Maybe not.
I’m thankful that Planned Parenthood supports women’s health. I’m thankful they encourage women to get annual exams and engage in preventive healthcare measures. I’m thankful that they provide an affordable service to those women and men who don’t have health insurance. And that’s why I continue to support them.
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Barbie doll on the bathroom door. Takes me back to first grade.
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I saw this painting in the restaurant where we had dinner, “How great would life be, if we lived a little, everyday?” I love that sentiment. Here’s to living a little more, everyday.
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A beautiful, foggy day for a hike on Mt Tam.
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Candidates sharing the first thing they’d do as mayor of San Francisco. Lots of talk about sunshine, access, availability.
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Some years I’ve had well-planned, spectacular birthday celebrations. This year’s snuck up on me. And might have been the best birthday yet.
Two former co-workers and dear friends were having their wedding celebration in Guerneville this weekend. It was to be an all-weekend affair: Friday barbecue, Saturday morning hike, Saturday afternoon ceremony, Saturday evening dancing and merriness, and a Sunday morning brunch. I wasn’t sure when I’d be back in San Francisco, so I declined plans to do anything on my actual birthday, today.
I didn’t anticipate that I would know so many people at the wedding. When I arrived at the barbecue on Friday afternoon, it was such a pleasant surprise to see former co-workers and other friends I hadn’t seen in a while. I felt as though I was constantly standing up to give and/or receive hugs. Never a bad thing. For dessert, we roasted S’Mores around a roaring campfire while huddled in blankets to ward off the descending chill. I drifted to sleep with campfire in my hair – one of my favorite smells.
Saturday morning found five of us squished into a vinyl-covered, ruby-red padded booth in an all-American diner, ordering steak, eggs, hash browns, bacon, laughing over the previous night’s antics. Afterward, we wandered through a redwood forest, gazing intently at majestic redwoods over a thousand years old. Sunlight danced, sparkling intermittently through the tops of the trees.
Watching Dustin and Laura exchange their vows in a meadow surrounded by redwoods, friends and family gathered, gave me pause. I have so much to be thankful for. I live in a beautiful part of the world. I’ve had amazing jobs that have challenged me to grow both personally and professionally. I’ve met incredible and interesting people and have maintained lovely friendships. And I’m sitting here, watching two of my dear friends share vows to start a life together, surrounded by family and friends who love them and will support them in reaching that goal. Love and joy and hope filled the air.
Dinner in the orchard was followed by dancing by the pool. The band included a banjo player – how can you not be happy when listening to a banjo’s twang? It’s impossible. Know what else is impossible? To dance and not feel pure joy. We swung, we stomped, we hora’ed, we moshed.
A few minutes after the stroke of midnight, I heard a commotion behind me. I turned around to see two friends approaching, singing a rousing rendition of the Happy Birthday song, carrying a cupcake overflowing with brightly burning candles. What could I possibly wish for? I hadn’t stopped smiling all weekend.
I arrive home, tired but happy, looking forward to a quiet evening. I opened my door and noticed a “Happy Birthday” banner hanging across the wall. I paused for a split second, trying to remember why that would be there. Had I hung it up and forgotten about it? No. When I left on Friday my apartment was in its normal state. What was this? I entered the living room and saw multitudes of brightly colored shiny twirling ribbons streaming from the ceiling, with balloons floating in the corner. I squealed with delight, jumping up and down and clapping. Who had done this? Who has keys to my apartment? I searched the apartment, looking for a note, a card, a clue to who had done this. I love surprises, especially when I have no idea they’re being planned. I made a couple of calls, expressing delight and gratitude, hoping that I had guessed correctly about who might have done this.
A quite unexpected, but most wonderful birthday.
LoriLoo 