I thought I looked pretty good.

Last week was National Laboratory Week, and as we do every year during the celebration our lab had various dress-up days: Favorite Sports Team Day, UroPartners Spirit Day, Comfy Clothes Day, etc.

During the planning stages, I suggested that we try something new this year, a Dress As Your Favorite TV or Movie Character Day. I suggested it– and promptly forgot about it.

Last Wednesday, one of my lab colleagues asked what TV star I would be dressing up as for Friday’s Favorite Character Day. After taking in my blank stare, she reminded me that I was the one who had suggested the day, so surely I had something special planned!

What to do? What to do? As I flicked through my mental Rolodex of popular TV shows, I stumbled across one of our current faves, Yellowstone. And didn’t I still have that cowboy hat, a souvenir from a week at a Colorado dude ranch, tucked away somewhere? I could become John Dutton, aka Kevin Costner, the series anti-hero.

That evening Barb and I researched online images of Kevin Costner (something Barb is wont to do in her free time anyway) and decided the Yellowstone character’smost iconic look would be worn-out blue jeans, a blue chambray shirt, and a dark vest. Plus the cowboy hat and one bit of flair–cool sunglasses.

Since I had the jeans, hat, and shades, Barb’s assignment for Thursday was to find the perfect shirt and vest, cheap. She hit the right stores (Nordstrom’s Off the Rack, Target, Kohls,) face timing me from each location for my approval of the clothes on hand. When we put the ensemble together that night we knew we had nailed it.

Friday at the lab was a lot of fun. Our laboratorians showed a lot of creativity. We had a Gossip Girl and Arthur the Aardvark. There was Jake from State Farm and Rizzo from Grease’s Pink Ladies. We even had a fully costumed Ghostbusters Ghost. My John Dutton fit in just fine with some fans of the show even correctly guessed who I was supposed to be.

And then I went and posted a photo on Facebook. I got a smattering of Likes with a few comments, Most of the comments were positive, although one friend guessed I was impersonating Ken “Hawk” Harrelson of former White Sox broadcast fame. No way do I look like that…

So I was feeling swell, at least until Barb posted a pic of our Labradoodle Cooper in his new rain slicker, and said to me “I’m getting hundreds of Likes on the Cooper pic. People are asking where I bought the raincoat. I think the Coop should be a spokesperson for the brand.”

Kevin–we’ve been one-upped by a pooch. But at least we’ve got cool sunglasses.

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I’m more than a little obsessive about moles or any new marks on my body. Whenever I see anything, my first thought is that has to be something. It’s understandable because I’ve now had three procedures for skin cancer. In 2015, I had surgery for Melanoma. Since 2019, I’ve had two Mohs surgical procedures for skin cancers on my face. No wonder I’m neurotic and anxious about this.

Last month I found something that looked suspicious on my forehead…at least it looked that way to me. I took a selfie of it and then emailed the photo to my dermatologist. She said she couldn’t be certain, but to come in for a check-up just to be safe. That suspicious mark turned out to be dry skin. But, she did find some other precancerous things. Nine of them. NINE!!!

She burned them off and we made an appointment for the next time…because with this there always seems to be a next time.

A few days later, we had a beautiful day in Chicago. There are so few of them at this time of the year that I had to take advantage of it. I decided to go for a walk along the lakefront. I also brought along a book to read.

The mile-long walk was great. Lake Michigan is beautiful and peaceful. Afterward, I found a bench in a shaded area where I could read. It was a wonderful couple of hours.

I began the next day, as usual, with a shower. While I was washing my hair I noticed my scalp was painful. I thought it might be that the water was too hot. I tried cold water, but even that made it ache.

When I was drying off afterward, the towel was hurting my face. Even patting it dry caused pain. I looked in the mirror….

SUNBURN!!

In my hurry to get outside the previous day, I left home without putting on sunscreen or a hat. I beat myself up a little over this because: (a) I’m usually very careful about this due to my past history. (b) I often write about sun safety.

Today is the first Monday in May. To paraphrase the song, it’s just another Melanoma Monday. This is the day we focus on bringing awareness about melanoma and other skin cancers.

I usually end my columns about Melanoma by giving some advice about how to keep safe from sun damage. Here are a few tips:

Use sunscreen, the higher SPF the better. Always wear sun-protective clothing, including sunglasses and hats. Check your body for suspicious moles on a monthly basis. Visit your dermatologist regularly for full body checks.

On this Melanoma Monday, I’m making a vow. I’ll try not to just talk about sun protection, but to practice what I preach. I vow to do better.

Related Post: Just another Melanoma Monday

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One of my favorite memories of growing up was finding a manuscript — specifically, seeing the manuscript of “Peter Rabbit” by Beatrix Potter. Now, of course that’s not a detective story, but it did involve finding the voice, the way to tell the story.

Beatrix Potter didn’t know what to write to a young friend, she admitted in a letter, so she started to tell him a story about four rabbits: Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-Tail, and Peter.

The rest is history.

I keep a figure of Peter (as shown in the accompanying photo) in sight near my desk to remind me of that letter-turned-manuscript. Sometimes, my writing is a diary entry about something I didn’t get written — until there I am at bedtime, writing it. Sometimes, instead of writing my mystery (or trying to sell the one I’ve finished), I wind up writing blog posts about good advice I’ve read.

Or sometimes I write in my diary that something’s going to be a great blog post some day — and the month goes by with only one published post. (Sorry.)

I’ve written before (here) about the essay in the Mystery Writers of America book “How to Write a Mystery” about the essay on “finding your voice” as a writer. Lyndsay Faye points out that “Authorial Voice” is how you sound, while Character Voice “is the way your imaginary friends sound.”

I have a new instance this week. Something happened that brought back bad memories, and I thought, “It’s a rerun!” (Well, other thoughts, too, but the word “rerun” stuck out.)

I made the bad rerun easier to handle when I thought of giving it to Daisy. She’s one of my imaginary friends, er, characters — and I’m writing her second mystery. (I finished the first in July 2020 and started the second in September of that year.) Daisy MacDonald is a college student in 1983 — and the second book is happening in summer school.

I’ve been researching how the murder will happen and trying to figure out just why Name Withheld, the villain, will do it. But while that’s stalled, I wanted to write something more and figure out what Daisy would do when news of the murder gets out.

When I thought of the word “rerun,” I knew it was the way for me to go on with Daisy. In those days of broadcast TV, not cable, and videotape only in TV production courses, reruns were the way to catch up on what we’d missed of favorite shows.

This single word fits what Faye calls Specificity — knowing Daisy’s use of the word gives her “a voice without a backstory,” Faye puts it. I won’t have to explain Daisy’s favorite programs or her impatience once she’s seen less-favored things already. Also, it’s a word that a less-involved new friend can use to tell her that she’s been through an investigation before (in the previous book), and can handle it again.

I’ll be looking at my own writing — my 1983 diary — to check for campus events, names, and favorite words from that summer. But I won’t worry about having to make everything read like 1983 does. Daisy is telling the story in the present, remembering ’83, so her voice in the new century can vary from her student voice.

Even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, whose writing influenced Lyndsay Faye at least as much as it does mine, didn’t sound all that “old-fashioned” in every sentence of his Victorian and Edwardian stories. As Faye points out, here’s a sentence from “The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton,” with Sherlock Holmes speaking:

” ‘I’ll be back some time, Watson,’ said he, and vanished into the night.”

I’ll be back sooner next time myself.

Why subject them to this dangerous, deadly test?

Should this be a solution to help illegals immigrants cross the Rio Grande?

Why not just throw open the border doors instead of President Joe Biden’s requirement that men, women and children risk getting swept away and dying? For a guy and his party who claim to be compassionate to the nth degree, this is damn unfeeling.

I can understand Biden’s and his woke masters’ pretense for wanting to appear like they’re not totally laissez faire when it comes to open borders. That would be a sure election loser. But the fact is that the border is open–if you can fight the currents, carry your child on your shoulders without getting dunked and more feats of physical stamina and daring-do.

It’s not just the Texas National Guard trooper who died trying to save two illegal crossers–who turned out to be illegal drug runners (or swimmers). According to CNN:

At least 650 people died attempting to cross the US-Mexico border this year, more than any other year since an international agency began documenting deaths in 2014. 

The International Organization for Migration — the agency documenting the deaths — didn’t specify the reason for the deaths but crossing the US southern border is often a dangerous journey that over the years has resulted in deaths and rescues.[Emphasis added.]

And that was six months ago. Certainly not all of them drowned trying to cross the river, but I’m guessing that more died doing that than the other fatalities–such as dying of thirst or hunger trying to evade the law once on land.

You have to go to FoxNews to get the true suffering of “unauthorized migrants” (the new name for undocumented immigrants that was the new name for illegal aliens) who, in the hundreds if not thousands, wade–sometimes with the water up to their necks–across the river. And into the waiting arms of the Border Patrol.

I say throw open the doors with tongue in cheek, only partially. Maybe Vice President Kamala Harris, whom Biden assigned to handle the border crisis, should provide boats. Rafts. Barges. Ferry boats like the ones in New York Harbor.

Build docks and platforms on either side of the river so “migrants”* don’t have to slide down and then, having exhausted them selves with the swim, climb a slick muddy bank on the American side. Make the docks handicapped accessible to make the crossing equally accessible for the infirm and elderly.

Restrooms, of course, for those who refrained from peeing the river. Fast food joints to enjoy a Big Mac before resuming their journey. Maybe even a souvenir shop, to commemorate the biggest day of their lives.

Surely, this wouldn’t be as expensive as flying and busing them all over the country.

Of course, this is all super ridiculous. But if Biden, Harris and the rest of the woke mob that is responsible for this misery showed up at the border, just once, they could see for themselves. Like the children struggling against the current. After all, aren’t their policies cloaked in “it’s for the children” BS?

In case you’ve forgotten, (sensitivity warning) here’s a photo of a man and his little daughter who downed trying to cross the river.

This was in 2019 on President Donald Trump’s watch. But the wretchedness has only accelerated.

If Biden gave a damn, he’d stop this. But Biden doesn’t give a damn.

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I have read many articles about the impact of social media and the use of filters on people today. I cannot imagine being a young person in today’s world. When I was growing up, I remember what a difference it seemed to make on my appearance when I could use hair color and make up. I felt more confident and naturally, more attractive. I think about this as I am getting older, and often wish that I had not started coloring my hair and being dependent on make up to feel pretty so early. Luckily, I also believed that I was smart and kind, but the struggle with my appearance started young. I wore glasses from age 7 until 15 when I got contacts, and my hair was a bit curly and unruly until I started using curling irons and flat irons. I know that most people worry about what they look like, and I often think how lucky we are that we can use make-up and hair products to hide or change what we don’t like; however, now in my fifties, though, I wonder if we are really lucky. I will leave the house without make-up to get the mail or run to the store, but anytime I am meeting friends, I will do my hair and make-up. I also will post without filters on social media, but I do like the one that smoothes out my wrinkles and erases some blemishes. How do I let these insecurities go? I remember that my grandmother only wore lipstick, and I always wondered what she would look like with eyeliner. People tell me that I look like my father did, but he never wore make up to hide his flaws. Granted I am older now than he ever got to be, but when will I stop caring? 

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All through my day, no matter where I go, or what I do, I am always looking for the good in people, in the world, in my life or even just in my day.

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