Boz Zellinger for Wake County District Attorney

It's not election season in my mind. There have been political signs up in yards and lining the main thoroughfares of Raleigh, but I honestly hadn't given them much thought. It's not time to elect a mayor, any of city council, any type of congress people, or governor, so I wasn't paying attention.

As it turns out, that's a huge mistake.

This "little" election that is coming up on May 6? The primary involving the seat for Wake County District Attorney that has become vacant after 28 years? It's hugely important.

You see, the Wake County District Attorney is the only district attorney who is responsible for investigating and prosecuting corruption in North Carolina's statewide elected officials.

We aren't just electing someone who needs to be a stellar prosecutor with a proven track record getting justice for victims in Wake County. We are electing someone who will be looking out for our entire state.

It's really hugely important.

On May 6, Wake County will hold a primary. If you are a registered Democrat or unaffiliated, then my message is for you.

We need to elect Assistant District Attorney Boz Zellinger to run as the Democratic candidate for Wake County District Attorney. It is that simple of a message.

We need to show up at the polls on May 6, and we need to vote for Boz Zellinger.

Boz Zellinger is endorsed by former Congressman Brad Miller, the State Employees Association of North Carolina, Indy Week, and little old me.

His opponent, Lorrin Freeman, has many endorsements as well. She is a capable woman, and Lord knows we need more women in elected positions, but there are two big problems here. She isn't as qualified for the position, and in the main election, I'm afraid the Republicans and their supporters will eat her for lunch. Unfortunately for Ms. Freeman, the bail bond scandal that cost Wake County Public Schools over $900,000 happened under her watch. Regardless of her innocence in the matter, a scandal like that occurring under her management? Can you imagine the attack ads? They write themselves.

We need Boz Zellinger because he is a proven criminal litigator. He is the better candidate. He can win the general election and become the best District Attorney for Wake County.

He has been trusted with some of the biggest trials Wake County has seen in recent years. Grant Hayes, Amanda Hayes, the Oakwood home invasions, and virtually every trial with an intense public eye on it has been skillfully handled by Boz Zellinger. He is trained by the Secret Service in digital forensics, and he is the only Democratic candidate who has ever tried a criminal case before a jury.

I have faith in North Carolina. I have faith that Pat McCroy will only serve one term as governor (knock on everything wood surrounding me). I have faith that we will put a Democrat back in the Governor's Mansion, and that the legislature will follow suit.

And that faith is why I think this primary is so important. We need Boz Zellinger as the District Attorney for Wake County because we need him doing his job, as he has proven he does so very well. We need a Democrat as the District Attorney of Wake County who will fairly protect the state of North Carolina from corruption at the state level of elected officials.

We need Boz Zellinger to win this primary. He needs you to vote.

Need information on the upcoming election? Click here.

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The Last Snowman, by JC Little, the Animated Woman

I'm stretching my comfort zone today. After all, it is my birthday. I'm entitled to a little something new today. Today, aside from turning forty-wonderful, I'm writing a sponsored post. I know. All the things we say we will never do. Just call me flexible.

BlogHer 2013 was a really comfortable place for me. I talked to whoever, went wherever, and had whatever experiences came my way. One of those experiences that came my way was a ride from the convention center back to the hotel in some fancy car provided by whatever car company was sponsoring the conference (I honestly can't remember. Sorry, car company). I jumped in that car because it meant I could ride with JC Little, the Animated Woman and have her captive in conversation for at least 15 minutes. It was a terrific 15 minutes, even if I did think we might die a couple of times. Big city drivers. Dang.

None of that has anything to do with anything really, except to say, I do love JC Little. When she announced that her new book was available for the Kindle, I immediately clicked over and bought it. Because she is awesome. Also, because it was only $3, and I could afford that. So much awesome for so little money. Then, when she announced that she would be doing a blog tour, my hand shot up like Horseshack, and I shouted, "Ooh! Ooh! Me! Me!"

I thought that I would write about my two littles and the book. It's about a snowman, and we just had a snow and built our first snowman together.

The boys do love the book. Christopher especially liked the pages with no words which he could narrate himself. They marveled at having enough snow to build a SEVEN FOOT SNOWMAN. "You mean taller than DADDY?" Yes, boys, that snowman was even taller than Daddy.

But after sharing the paperback version of the book with my boys, I have to go back to the unsponsored first time I read the book on my iPad Kindle app. Mallory walked behind me, and I called her over to show her the book. She sat down next to me on the couch, and we read it together.

She's about to turn 18 and leave for college. I am so proud of the woman she's become, and I feel like she has become one of my best friends. But I still see that little girl who has been part of my family for almost eight years now. I see her at the table, coloring with her little brothers, or we run into the backyard with our pvc pipe bows and arrow for a round of Hunger Games, and I realize that these moments are short. She will be gone soon, starting her own life, and we will be but bystanders, cheering her on.

Our gift to her will be the promises we have kept. The support we have given her. The love we share. 

JC wrote this book on a promise to her daughter. It's a great story, but it's also a great reminder that even the passing promises we make to our children matter. 

So. What do I want from you? I want you to enter a giveaway so that you have a chance to experience this wonderful story too. You will receive a paperback copy of the fantastic book, The Last Snowman, by JC Little. You will also receive from JC herself, a mug with an illustration from the book. The giveaway will run until March 2, and I'll announce the winner on March 3. All you have to do to enter is leave a comment in which I can reply to you. Remember, my blog is archaic, and if you don't sign in or leave an email address, or some way in which I can contact you, then I won't be able to let you know if you win.

Sponsors of this blog tour are:

Dot & Lil - luxurious bath & beauty and skincare products with a fresh, young feel, handmade in their Montreal studio. Dot & Lil are designing a custom soap just for The LAST Snowman blog tour - Limited edition "Hot Chocolate Swirl" soap! 

Borion - a world leader in homeopathic medicines for the whole family. (I love this company so much already!)

P.S. If you don't win the giveaway, the Kindle version of the book is still only $3, and you should totally splurge for yourself.

Stars

Three years ago today, I lost my daddy. Two years ago yesterday, I lost my best friend.

Here's the thing. The anniversaries are hard in a way. In another way though, they are really good. I look at the pictures. I talk about them. I think about them. And the pictures? Are of happy times. The stories are funny. The memories are good.

Every anniversary is another year that we've made it when it seemed impossible that we wouldn't. We move forward and learn what it means to have somebody live on in our hearts.

I used to want to punch people in the face when they would say something like that. It's one of those things you have to get to yourself. Most days I'm there. Most days I can go through the pictures and think of Daddy and Susan and smile instead of cry. Do I miss them? Sure. Do I still want to call them all the time? Of course. But I can't. So be it.

This is what I have. A lot of wonderful memories. The knowledge that I had a daddy who loved me more than I could ever know and a best friend who always saw the good in me when I couldn't. And I had them for over 30 years. Insert cliches here. They are all true.

One thing I do is attach myself to songs that really hit me in the gut. And I sing them. Over and over. It's therapeutic for me. This isn't meant to be a sad trip down memory lane. It's just something I've been singing lately that makes me think of Susan. And anytime I get a chance to just sit and think about her is good for me.

Many thanks to Kevin who did everything but the piano and vocals. He even used Pro Tools which he hates. He's awesome.

 

Four.

It's here. Colin is finally turning four. I honestly questioned whether we would make it or not.

Three has been a hellish ride of tantrums and cuddles. One minute he's beggin for hugs and kisses and the next minute he's pulling a chunk of my hair out while screaming that he hates me. 

But I see a change. I see him beginning to boil over but trying not to. I can see him trying to think before he speaks. Trying to "get a hold of himself," as he calls it. Tantrums don't happen every day. There is a day or two reprise, and I'm grateful. 

He is so proud of turning four. He wants to be a big boy, and for some reason, he has decided four is that mile marker. He is smart and confident. He loves an audience. He has an intense need to be loved. In the middle of a tantrum, he will scream, "I need a hug. And. A. KISS!"  However angry we are at each other, somewhere in that three, about to be four, wisdom, he knows that we just need to stop and love each other. 

Smart cookie, that one. 

This time four years ago, I was waiting out labor at home. Waiting for contractions. Pretending I might make it all night by going to bed. My water had broken at noon, so we waited. At 2:45, we left for the Birth Center. By 5:30, he was born. Around noon, be came back home and united our family of five. 

Colin Henry, you complete us. You are hard work. You are tons of laughs. You are challenging and rewarding. You are my daddy made over. You are 100% unique and your own self. 

I love you.

Not laughing

Eight days in and I'm working hard on my resolutions. I've played piano, even *gasp* practiced, every day. And, of course, on the seventh day, a key broke. The A below Middle C. Number 37. One of my favorites. Sigh. Isn't that how this decade has been? We resolve to do better, get further, be more. We make plans and set goals, only to find that the universe has much different ideas. From new jobs to cancer to crazy people to whatever else, life keeps throwing things at us. We keep ducking. We keep getting pegged anyway. That key. Both pieces I'm working on are in a minor. So funny, universe. So very funny. Pardon me while I don't laugh.

Project Birthday Party

Christmas, check.

New Years, check.

That can only mean one thing. It's time for Project Birthday Party.

This past year, I swore that I would just have a simple party at some place with a bunch of inflatable things that kids can jump on and slide down. Of course, that's not happening. I just can't resist a theme.

The first hint came on Instagram the other day. 

Not too hard to guess if you have had a kid in your house anytime in the past 10 years. Here's clue number two:

There is much to do. Many platypli to cut out for a platypus search. Many 2 liter bottles to collect for science experiments. Many cupcakes to make. Many many things to do. Seriously. You only turn 6 and 4 once in your life. Why spend it in a well santitized bounce house? I'll probably have a very valid answer to that question the day after this party.

Our Year

Fresh start. I'm a big fan of fresh starts. Some would say it's because I don't usually finish things. Not me. I wouldn't say

Resolutions come easy in my head, but I don't like them. I don't like making promises I know I can't keep. Unless you are my youngest son. Apparently, making promises I can't keep have driven us into a cycle of arguments and tantrums that just can't be beat.

There are things I want to be doing that I'm not doing though. Like writing. Hello, month of November that I just totally quit writing. I want to write. Not just for epic reasons, but for the everyday. The little things. Like how Colin became obsessed with IceMan from Spiderman and his Amazing Friends from the 19EIGHTY's. It was the only thing he asked Santa to bring. Thanks to eBay, Santa brought a vintage action figure which Colin now stores in the freezer. Because where else would IceMan want to reside?

Stay cool, IceMan.

Music. Since I can't seem to finish anything there, I'm simply resolving to play my piano everyday. Be it a scale or two, a little Chopin, or getting back to those Beethoven sonatas, or a song or two -whatever. If I can get my butt up to the studio at least once a day, then I imagine it's going to be easier to make some music.

Sugar. It's my mortal enemy. I'm sad or angry, and I turn to sugar. The sugar gives me an instant relief, but then I feel shitty a few hours later. Not to mention the weight I've gained back. Which makes me sad and angry, so I have a donut. Like a dummy. So back on Weight Watchers I go. I have to be accountable to something since I don't seem to deem myself important enough to take care of in a healthy way.

Sewing. Consistently. Not just in a rush. Use what I have and stop buying fabric because it's pretty. I'm so excited about the craft fair that my friend Rachael and I did in December, and I want to do more of those. It was fun, and I felt good about earning money again.

Specraftular and Tweetly Homemade's booth at Holly Days

Caring. For my family. For my animals. For myself. I have to start caring in a more active fashion. Patience. Laundry. Understanding. Clean sheets.Yoga. Less sugar. More real food. These are things that I want to give myself and my family. It shouldn't be hard. I just need to focus.

Focus.

I have so much. These are my children.

This is my husband.

These are my animals.

And this? This is our year.

Over coffee

She came into Starbucks and immediately saw someone she knew. Two Raleigh Bob's connecting over their red Starbucks cups and a noisy wash of "I haven't seen you in so long"s. She's a jewelry maker. Her friend, the one in a meeting across from me, gushed to her colleague about how talented she was.

Then, she said, "This is my dad."

She introduced a man who probably used to be taller than her. His face was the face of a man who obviously used to be healthier. His cheekbones were over pronounced. His shoulders slumped. He spoke softly, but I heard him. He said, "I do like to eat."

The women laughed. He smiled. He still had it.

It was the baseball hat that got me. The random baseball hat that didn't go with the crisp blue jeans that were being cinched to him on the last belt loop. The baseball hat that was a little too casual for the collared shirt he had most definitely had help tucking in before he left home.

The hat was what brought my daddy zooming in this morning - his absence blowing through me like the coldest blast of wind rushing in each time someone opens the door to which I sat to close.

I miss him.

I wished that I could pick him up; take him on my errands with me; stop for coffee; spend the day doing mundane things.

In the end, I only stared, batting back a few tears. I stopped short of leaning over the table and grabbing the woman with the Raleigh Bob and telling her how lucky she was. For all I know, she's quite aware of how lucky she is.

I hope so.

Holiday pajamas available on Etsy!

Holiday pajamas are in season in my Etsy shop! In November, they are only $30 a pair. December, they will go up to $35. Still a bargain, right? 

Little flannel pants with soft, monogrammed t-shirts. Add your kiddos, and you'll have the cutest Christmas pictures on the Facebook timeline in 2013.

Many many thanks to my friend Erin for the fist bump over at her blog, A Parenting Production. Her littles are next up to receive matching jammies for the holidays. 

You know, the whole family can get involved. Last year, I even had Papa in matching pants. It's great fun, and the kids love matching with Mama and Daddy. Cheesy? Sure. But most of the best things about Christmas are.

Gig

This is what I was doing tonight. A gig in Wilson with a group I've been with around ten years now. I love them like family. 

Playing music with a group is a deeply personal thing for me. I have to trust the other members completely. I've grown past feeling like I need to have close friendships wtb anyone I am in a band with, but the fact remains that I would do anything for anyone of them at the drop of a hat. 

The drummer is going to Ethiopia in about seven hours. He teaches kids all over the world how to make beats. It's pretty awesome. 

That was random. I know. 

Anyway, it was a good show, and now that our flute player has spent the night in our house, Colin has declared her part of our family. And that's totally fine by me. 

We would like to play more, but for now, we'll take what we can get. It's just good to get to play with really great people. 

The truth

I'm terrible at blogging everyday. 

It's true. 

Kettle balls for shoes

My whole aspiring to go to bed earlier, spend more time engaged with my kids. And getting ready for craft fairs is making NaMoBloMoFo not really work for me so far.

I need a new groove.

I can, however, tell you that I saw one of the oddest performances last night. Kembra Pfahler. She was painted red, wore kettle balls on her feet, had hair teased up the circumference if Saturn, and crawled onto the stage to give her seemingly improvised performance of a song about Bladerunner, the director's cut. 

Yeah. I'm so over art school. 

Dang near missed it

Tired. So many feels. Got to go out tonight and hear some music. Somebody that I used to know. It was weird. 

Too much for now. 

Sleepy. 

Dress up

Every year, I have made my boys' Halloween costumes. It's one of the main reasons I wanted to start sewing. A little trip down the aisles of Target last week though, and Christopher's eyes widened. His voice could barely squeak out,

"Mama. Whoa. Look at that Woooooolverine."

We had already made his costume for this year. He didn't need one, and I wasn't about to spend $20 on a store bought costume. I told him that if it was still there after Halloween, we could buy it on clearance.

I had no intentions of making it back in time to check. I know. Evil Mama.

However, this morning, I had to go pick up a prescription (you're welcome everyone who has to deal with me on a daily basis), so I wandered back through the last row of Halloween things. The sign said "70% OFF." There were two Wolverine costumes left. Both in the right size.

Here's the thing. They didn't need them. But they weren't just 70% off, they were 90% off. So for $4, I had two of the most excited little boys you have ever seen. They are currently sleeping in their Wolverine costumes (sans masks and claws, thank you very much). And they will play dress up, adding this character to the closet full of Iron Man, Spiderman, Captain America, Jake the pirate, Cubby the other pirate, and Indiana Jones.

They love it, and I love watching them.

To top it all off, I picked up a Ninja Turtle and Superman to wrap up for Christmas.

Who says little boys don't like to play dress up?

Dojo Mama

We've become a karate family. The boys and I arrive at the dojo at least three times a week. Usually, we are there around an hour and a half. Christopher is a Deputy Stripe belt (I think. Whatever comes before Green), and Colin has just started in the Little Samurai program.

It is the last thing I thought my boys would do. Well, maybe not the very last, but definitely not the first. It's just that martial arts were never on my radar. Ever.

Last year, when Christopher started asking to take karate lessons, my first thought was to find somewhere that he could "just try out." We signed him up with a pass from a friend at the dojo where their son takes lessons. It was obvious by the second week that this was something he really enjoyed and something he could really benefit from.

All of the sudden, we were signing a year long contract. For a four year old.

Of course, that's not anything I never asked of parents when I was teaching piano. It's a good way to make sure that parents are committed to the program, and while it's nice to let your children try things out, it's better to teach them that there are things in life which take time to learn. Like a musical instrument. Or karate.

So I sit in the dojo, giving up our free time to let our boys be coached, mentored, and taught by the many instructors there. Sure, some days I wish that we could just head to the park with some friends. And I know that some days Christopher is really tired and would like to just come home and recharge quietly and alone, but if he's going to karate, he is happy about it
.

It's been good for them. Colin is only a month in and already asks every morning if he gets to go to karate that day. They are happy to be there, and as long as their coffee machine keeps working, I'm happy to be there too.

Salvaged Jewelry and branching out

Today I did something I've never done before. I hosted a trunk show (and it should be noted that I just accidentally typed "truck show" which is also something I've never done). Sales events masquerading as parties have never set well with me. I mean, as a seasoned introvert, I like to do my shopping online. Usually sans pants. And bra. And with a Diet Coke to my left. And free shipping.

However, when jewelry artist Melissa McLawhorn put out an invitation to host a trunk show for her Etsy shop, Salvaged Jewelry, I couldn't resist. Melissa creates jewelry from recycled things that would probably otherwise end up in the landfill. Pages from an algebra book end up as a pendent on a necklace. The plastic covering for florescent light fixtures adorn matchbook covers in a bracelet.

It's all quite brilliant really.

Some friends came by. I made some snacks. We all did a little shopping. It was fun. Melissa gave me an awesome necklace as a thank you gift - it is purple and features resistors on it. Which is quite perfect for me, as I'm constantly picking up resistors in the studio as Kevin works on building gear.

The crafty part of being an artist doesn't come easy for me. Give me a piano and microphone and I'll be right at home on a stage in front of 10,000 people. It's easy, and I love it.

Opening an Etsy shop last year? Scared me to death. What if I made something and no one liked it? What if it didn't hold up? Who am I to think that people would actually want to spend money on something I've made?

Then, I realized I needed to do something to support this fabric habit I've developed. I set up shop and waited for magic.

Not much has happened. I've sold a few things. Been burned once by someone not following through on a big order. But mainly, it's just given me encouragement to keep making things. And we all know I'm happiest when I'm making something. The creative process and all.

This year, I'm taking it one step further. My friend Rachael and I are going to do a couple of craft fairs together. The first one is coming up in a couple of weekends, and I have to admit - I'm really nervous. Packaging and presentation are not my strong suits, and I really want our booth to look good - be inviting.

If you are in the area, you can come visit us and bring me Starbucks to calm my nerves. Or just come see us. We will be at the Holiday Sip & Shop hosted by Vend Raleigh on November 15 and then at Sanderson High School's Holly Days on December 8 and 9. And? If no one buys anything I've made? Then I'll at least know that I have the kindest, most generous friends who have put up with the creations I've made their children for the past five years - which isn't such a bad trade off, right?

Joining the Rainbow Loom cult

Two hours of this, and I'm telling you, the drink doesn't need to be Diet Coke. Who thought this torture device up anyway?

Christopher finished his first bracelet, wore it proudly for about 30 minutes, then promptly gave it to a cute girl. My little dude. He is such the love. 

But really? More than the basic bracelet? I'm not sure I have time to go there. Halp.

It's November, when we blog everyday

So as to not ruin NaBloPoMoFo on the very first day, I give you my two youngest in not-a-box. It's a pirate ship, in case you are wondering. 

More writing, less adorable filler to come . . .

When your best friend has cancer; Long distance love

A few weeks ago, I posted about what to do or say when your best friend learns she has cancer. It seemed that many people read and took those words to heart, and I want to make sure that it is clear: I am speaking from hindsight. Much of this I got wrong. I wasn't really very good at it, but I tried to pay attention and learn from my mistakes. 

When you live five hours away, it's hard to give advice for the everyday. Impossible really. Susan was so lucky to have a strong church community, school community, blogger community, and some really awesome friends who organized her meals, her childcare, and her transportation when needed. She also has the most amazing husband, parents, and in-laws who stepped in. The only things I know about supporting your friend in person when they are in cancer treatment are these:

• Don't show up sick. Don't show up if you've been sick in the past week. Don't show up if anyone in your house is sick. Germs are the absolute worst thing to bring them.
• When you want to help - have an idea. Don't call and say, "Let me know what I can do to help." They shouldn't have to think about it. If you have a skill or an opportunity, then step in and do something. Don't put it off on your friend to think up something for you to feel useful.
• And please - don't say that her problems make you rethink your own life or make you feel badly for having less life threatening problems. It's annoying to be the barometer of how much someone else's life sucks.

If you live five hours away, it's easy to think that you are useless, and that's not true. In fact, it's a little easier for you to be that person with whom your friend can still be "normal." When you aren't seeing the treatment first hand, it's a little easier for you to be the one who can still call and ask for help with your uncontrollable three year old. 

You can be the one who still needs her. And trust me, she needs to still be needed.

It felt selfish to me - to call and cry to her about my problems. What I learned though, was that in crying to her about my problems, she knew that I still saw her as my friend, Susan. Not my friend with cancer. 

Again, it's about living. The more you focus on the cancer with your friend, the more the cancer takes over. She needs people to still be who they were with her so that she can still be herself. If the cancer is terminal, then you both know it's going to take her life in the end - don't let it take her being while she is still here and breathing.

There will be times when you want to know what is going on with her treatment, and that is alright. Tell her that you would like an update when she is ready to give you one. Remember that she needs time to process information from the doctors and to go over it with her family. She will tell you want she needs you to know in her own time.

Living apart doesn't mean that you never see each other though. Get in the car, on a plane, or on a train and get there. This is the one area where I don't recommend trying to maintain the norm. Get there. Every chance you have to see her that you don't take will be time that you regret. Trust me on that one. Get there every single chance that you can. Take your children with you so that they can know her. Spend time with her children so that they can know you. Be friends with her partner - after all, you chose the same person as the bomb diggity. Of course, I already adored Susan's husband, so that last one was easy, but you get the point.

The phone line only goes so far. Make your choices wisely. Sacrifice. Get there. Because if you are life long best friends, then you may be one of the only people she feels like she can stay in her jammies around. She knows that if she needs to nap, you will amuse yourself or wash the dishes. She knows that she doesn't have to be strong around you - that you can and will handle her pain and her sorrow - because it's what you do for each other.

You won't be doing anything for her that she hasn't done for you all along - it's just in the context of cancer now.

When your best friend has breast cancer

It's October. Tis the season for everything pumpkin and oceans of pink vomited upon every product known to mankind.

It's October. Tis the season for me to think about Susan twice as much everyday and remember the one equation my astrophysicist best friend taught me that I actually understood:

ACTION > AWARENESS

There isn't much that I can add about what you can do during October that hasn't already been said. Susan said it best, of course, and new voices are rising all the time to remind us that living with breast cancer isn't made any easier by us posting the color of our bras on Facebook or not wearing a bra on October 13. 

What I can add is something for the friends of women living with breast cancer. It's something that I've wanted to write about for years now, but I realized that I wasn't really that great at it, and certainly didn't have enough knowledge to fill a book.

I can tell you what I did wrong, and maybe think of something I got right.

In the beginning . . .

One night, your best friend calls you on the phone. She has a three year old and a five month old. You are pregnant with your first child. Conversations had turned from babies to breast cancer over the past week because her mother-in-law had just been diagnosed and was about to start treatment. With you being the child of a breast cancer survivor, she turned to you to answer questions about helping a family member and dealing with telling the children. 

Only this night, she says, "In my internet research about breast cancer, I found something. Something called Inflammatory Breast Cancer." 

"I've never heard of it," I reply.

"I think I have it," she says slowly.

Here's where you can go right or wrong. 

Wrong thing to say, "Oh, Sus. There's no way you have breast cancer. You have no family history. You're breastfeeding. You're only 34. I'm sure it's just mastitis."

No. Don't do that. Don't dismiss a friend's concerns. Don't slide down a tear filled slope of worry with them, but don't dismiss them. EVER.

Right thing to say, "Wow. That must be scaring you. Have you made an appointment to have it checked? Do you need me to go with you?"

Listen.

Support.

Encourage.

After the initial diagnosis . . .

There will be a diagnosis. A diagnosis is not answers. Let me say that again. The diagnosis creates more questions that you can ever imagine. It does NOT provide answers.

Your best friend will tell you the diagnosis even before she has fully processed the news fully herself. There will be silence on the phone. Stay in it. Stay with her.

Wrong thing to do next is pepper her with questions, "What will they do? Is there treatment? Have you told the kids?"

A question you could ask are, "Do you need me to come?" 

Right thing to do next is possibly cry with her. Calmly. It might be to curse. It might be to apologize for saying the wrong thing the day before. You won't know exactly until you - 

Listen.

Support.

Encourage.

The thing is, with a diagnosis of Inflammatory Breast Cancer in particular, everything about what you thought you knew of the future is gone. The appointment you thought would give you answers, the one where you get your diagnosis? That appointment only turns everything into uncertainty.

Living in uncertainty is one of the hardest things to ask someone to do. 

Asking a billion questions of someone living in uncertainty is never helpful. Don't do it.

Something right I learned along the way was to ask in the first couple of minutes of our conversations, "What do you want to talk about? Life or cancer?" 

Most of the time, the answer was "life."

Because really, what your best friend with a new cancer diagnosis wants more than anything? Is to live. 

So do it. Live with her.

Listen.

Support.

Encourage.