In Fuck Cancer News, my old awesome boss at The Nature Conservancy is stepping down from his job as state director of Washington because his colon cancer has advanced far enough that there is nothing else they can do for him. He's not even 54 years old. Clean living, active, awesome guy and he's not got much time left.
FUCK YOU, CANCER, YOU FUCKING FUCK.
FUCK YOU, CANCER, YOU FUCKING FUCK.
Damn right.
I'm sorry about your former boss, Cashmere.
Fuck cancer.
Amen
Could I have some sleep~ma and no-anxiety~ma, please? I am not having a good week, and the direction my thoughts have been heading lately have been scaring me a little.
{{Anne}} Sleep sweet~ma and calm~ma as much as you need.
Much calm~ma to you, Anne. I hope you have a restful night and a much better day tomorrow.
Anne, may your mind be fully aware of the love so many people have for you, here and elsewhere, leading you to sweeter thoughts and healing dreams, as your body rests and restores itself for the rigors of the coming day. Sleep well.
We are home. So tired. Headache. Food.
Anne, what can I do to help settle your thoughts?