Crazy weather

As GABROEN posted last week (see the post Floodgates), it felt as if someone up in the heavens was pouring his/her/its heart out - I guess the gender of that someone is a matter of religion, belief system or personal preference. Anyway, we got over 4 inches of rain in about 16 hours, strangely but fittingly coinciding with the last 16 hours of Marjolein's life. That amount of downpour was too much to handle for the surroundings, and we got major flooding.

We came back on Thursday from a second trip to the homelands in two weeks, and there still were some flooded areas, but most of the water had drained and saturated the dried out soil around here. Since GABROEN's return, the weather has been pretty nice. Spring has reluctantly sprung upon us. Not that the trees have any leaves yet. But there is a certain balminess in the air, and daffodils and hyacinths as the first spring flowers. But the most obvious sign of spring: we have lake effect fog. Every spring, when the land is warming up but Lake Michigan still is cold as hell, we have days of dense fog for about a 1-mile stretch along the lakefront. So lakeside living does have its downsides. The weather around here is crazy, but not boring.

Someone is getting some sun

I don't think many people know this, but our fifteen-and-a-half (writing it out in full is only fitting for such a respectable age) year old Mexican Hairless has a last name. Actually, she also has a first name; Ruba is just her given name, given by GABROEN when we got her, now fifteen-and-a-half year ago, as we didn't picture ourselves calling her by that pedigree name: Girassol Gonzalez.

I'll first explain how we got from Girassol to Ruba. When we got her as an 8 week old little gremlin, now fifteen-and-a-half years ago (repeating this so often is only fitting for such a respectable age), the little hair she had on her head was as orange reddish as a carrot. Girassol, Spanish for sunflower, just didn't seem right. She was a redhead, a red dog, which would be 'rode hond' in Dutch. Oddly, 'rode hond' is also the Dutch name for rubella, one of the childhood diseases characterized by red spots. The origin of the name 'rode hond' has nothing to do with dogs whatsoever; it is derived from the old Dutch 'huin' meaning impurity or blemish. Apparently there was an old English word 'hun' with the same meaning. Anyway, we liked the reference to 'red dog', but thought that naming a puppy after a childhood disease, in particular a puppy that looks like a gremlin with many pimples and zits, is a bit awkward. So we ended up abbreviating 'rubella' to make it sound friendlier, e voila: Ruba. Certainly has a better ring to it than Girassol.

Her pedigree last name, Gonzalez, turned out more fitting than we thought fifteen-and-a-half years ago. Reminiscent of her fellow Mexican cousin, the cartoon mouse Speedy, Ruba turned out to be surprisingly fast. Now that she is fifteen-and-a-half, she lost most of her speed. She hasn't lost her love for sunbathing, and moves around the house with the turning sunlight. So perhaps Girassol wasn't such a bad name after all. Also, she hasn't lost her pigmentation, and still tans incredibly fast. So fast, that even the little winter sun in Illinois apparently has some effects on her. We only realized that when we took her shirt off. At her respectable age, she has outgrown her gremlin looks. Instead, she now looks like a Tour de France cyclist.

Floodgates

The Dutch are renowned for their water management and their down-to-earth nature in claiming land from the sea, aptly summarized in the proverb "God created the world, but the Dutch created The Netherlands". However, the severe thunderstorms that are dumping inches of rain on us today are a bit much even for a Dutchman to cope with.

It almost seems as if the flood gates of the heavens were opened yesterday over Northern Illinois, and that someone up there is pouring his or her heart out. The weather is fitting for our mood, as GABROEN received the sad news that our dear sister-in-law Marjolein passed away today. That news is a bit much to cope with as well; it feels as if the floodgates to our hearts and souls have opened up also.

Sweet dreams, dear sister.

The big C is a B

I believe it was ubercowboy John Wayne who first coined the phrase "the Big C" when he was battling cancer, perhaps making reference to the rival sports club from his college town. In his classical way, he stated in a press conference that he "licked the big C". Well, I would argue that the Big C is a B. B as in bitch. GABROEN received the shocking news on Saturday that our oldest sister in law is diagnosed with cancer, the big C, the B, whatever you want to coin it, and that it is incurable. We are in The Netherlands to be with our family in these difficult times, which turn out to also be very valuable times.

Our sister in law is brave, sweet, loving, in need of loving, all at the same time. She needs care and caring, but is also sending tons of loving to her loved ones, first and foremost to my big brother and their 4 kids. It is beautiful to witness and be a part of.

Today we learned the diagnosis is a recurring melanoma, and the prognosis is bad. But at the same time we are glad to be here, on the same emotional roller coaster ride with our loved ones. On the roller coaster, our sister in law sits in the front cart, and we join her and support her, going wherever the disease and the emotions are taking us. Roller coasters always have this compelling and thrilling name. I think we'll name this one "The Big B". Keep on riding it, sweet Marjolein, and know we have your back.

A bitchy melanoma cell (melissa-melanomasucks.blogspot.com)