Amy Wood, TV Newcaster and Patron Saint of Breastesses!

Here are two #Twammogram TV spots that aired in South Carolina! Thank you Amy for helping spread the word!

Are Your Boobs Uninsured?

One obstacle women face to get a mammogram is access. Some are uninsured, some can't afford their deductible or co-pay. So I have created a state-by-state directory to help women find free or low-cost mammograms in their area. Please pass this on to those you think might find this helpful.




Alabama
Alaska
Arizona
Arkansas
California
Colorado
Connecticut
Delaware
Florida
Georgia
Hawaii
Idaho
Illinois
Indiana
Iowa
Kansas
Kentucky
Louisiana
Maine
Maryland
Massachusetts
Michigan
Minnesota
Mississippi
Missouri
Montana
Nebraska
Nevada
New Hampshire
New Jersey
New Mexico
New York
North Carolina
North Dakota
Ohio
Oklahoma
Oregon
Pennsylvania
RhodeIsland
South Carolina
South Dakota
Tennessee
Texas
Utah
Vermont
Virginia
Washington
West Virginia
Wisconsin
Wyoming

In new boob news, #Twammogram now has a Facebook Page!

Now, to make you smile. If you have ever been to the Netherlands or know a Dutch person, this will make you smile. A breast cancer awareness PSA from The Netherlands:

Yes, I'm Still Talking About Boobs.

Well, there it is. The Twammogram avatar, brought to you by Mr. Misha. It's sexy, it's fun, it's pink and it comes with an iPhone! I think it will be all the rage. Please feel free to steal it for your own use, or if you are the creative type- make one yourself. Perhaps one for Blackberry?







So I was sitting at work last night, waiting for the 9pm bus of pregnant women to roll in, and I remembered- My still camera lets me shoot video! So today I am going to charge up my lefty-liberal, tree-hugging, rechargeable batteries so I can get all multimedia with my boobs.

Of course, because of this- I will now have to put on make-up, fix my hair and wear something presentable. This is not how I roll lately- this is a big deal. Under any other circumstances, all I would do to prepare for a mammogram would be shower, brush my teeth, put my hair into a ponytail, throw on a bra, a t-shirt, some flipflops and some yoga pants. But I am gonna get all fancy- FOR YOU! And your boobs.

Tomorrow is the big day for me. The girls are going into the vice and having their picture taken. I'll post all the video, photos and tweets here as soon as I get back! Stay tuned!

GUESS WHAT?????
Right in the middle of writing this blog post- I did a phone interview about #Twammogram! Crazy, right? As soon as it is published, I will post a link. I am pretty sure I was the dorkiest person ever interviewed by that reporter. I really should have had some caffeine before talking with her.

I am all over the place with this blog post. I really don't know how to put it back on track. So I will just end it with this video from my new Twitter friend, Amy Wood. Listen to why she is so passionate about #Twammogram:

Misha Uses Her Breasts For Good, Instead Of Evil.

It all started out so innocently with a Facebook status update by my Twitter gal pal Laura:




Then it moved on to Twitter.

We came up with a hashtag, a way to mark tweets so they can be searched, indexed, catogorized, etc.

#Twammogram

Mr. Misha is working on an avatar involving a pink bra, boobies and an iPhone.

Then Laura made a video:





Monday, the Twammogram fever started to spread. Lisa G(A Twammogram Hero!) and Laura started contacting celebrities and media folks to help spread the word. TPM's Christina Bellantoni, Comedian Baratunde Thurston and Academy Award Winning Actress Marlee Matlin all helped spread the word! It was very exciting.

Then something I never expected happened. We started getting messages from women who said they were afraid or had forgotten to make their mammogram appointment. Those who were afraid said they felt like they could do it now that they had the support of the 'twitterverse'. Those who had been putting it off, or kept forgetting, got on the phone right then and made appointments. But the best thing of all, those who weren't getting a mammogram because they were uninsured were put in touch with programs that provide free or low cost mammograms.

Who knew that something two goofballs (or dorkasauruses, as Laura says) joking around about their fear of cancer & boob squishing and their Twitter addiction could start something so cool.

I am going to make an attempt at Vlogging- a Misha first because it requires that I do something with my hair and apply makeup. So stay tuned!

UPDATE!

The Twammogramomentum is spreading!
Laura's Blog
Famous South Carolina Newscaster, Amy Wood's Blog
Follow Twammogram on Twitter!

In Memoriam: We Don't Look Anything Alike

One morning I stopped by my mom's house. We chatted for a little while and then she walked me out to the Mishamobile. Bonnie was at her usual post, right next to my mother's left leg. All of a sudden, Bonnie saw a cat and took off. She ran halfway down the block and disappeared in between two houses.

Of course, my mother became hysterical, shrieking and fretting. She was having a panic attack, in the middle of the street while still in her nightgown. I told her I would go fetch the dog. The last thing I needed was to bail Bonnie out of the pound only to have to go spring Joanie from the loony bin.

I found Bonnie sitting at the neighbors back gate staring down a stray cat. I called her name and she obediently came right to me. I told her she was naughty and that she better get back home immediately. She gave me an arrogant snort and galloped back to my mom's front porch. When I reached the foot of the driveway, I found my mom cooing and petting the wayward pooch.

I noticed when my mom's hand came away from Bonnie's head, it was bloody. Since my mom has a serious bleeding disorder, I became alarmed. I asked my mom where she was bleeding from and she looked down and hollered, "Oh my God! It's Bonnie's ear! She cut her ear! Oh no, her beautiful ear! Oh my God! What am I going to do! Oh no!"

I told my mom to call the vet and tell them I was on my way. I got Bonnie into my car and took off. Bonnie has huge ears. Ginormous, gray flapping ears. As I got on the freeway entrance, she shook her head, flapping those elephant ears of hers. Blood went flying everywhere, on the windshield, on the rear view mirror, on the windows, on the roof and all over me. I looked like I had just murdered someone.

When I pulled up to the vet's office, half of the office staff was out in front waiting for me. I figured my mom had made it seem like Bonnie was on death's door and they were out to give emergency aid in the parking lot. Until I noticed the look on their faces. They were all grinning.

I got Bonnie out of the jeep and said, "I guess you got the call we were coming in?" One of the vet techs replied, "Yes, Joan called and said Bonnie had cut her ear. We are all ready for her." I made some comment about my mom over exaggerating the extent of her injuries and the tech replied, "No, she said it was just a cut ear. But she said that Bonnie's SISTER was driving her to the office and we wanted to see a Weimaraner that drove a car!"

I Twatted With A GOP "Leader"

Going to the doctor is never a fun day for me. I am usually sore afterward. Today was no different. As soon as I arrived home, I had lunch, put some ice on my neck/shoulder and popped a Flexeril and a Motrin.

While waiting for the ice and pills to kick in, I scanned all the tweets I missed while I was out of the house. One particular tweet caught my eye:


I remembered reading a few months ago about a wonderful Japanese dinner Newt had enjoyed with his wife:


So I replied:


I was quite surprised when he replied:


So there you go. Newt Gingrich twatted me.

You can pick your friends, you can’t pick your family...

So, yesterday I shared Mark's funeral story.  I bragged about how great my co-workers were and how wonderful my friends were.  Absent from that story....my family.  Don't get me wrong, my family is hysterical and loving too.  But they are not so helpful in a crisis.  Here are the comments made to me after Mark died:

From my Step-father (a Marine):

"Well, now that the funeral is over, you should get back to work. Be tough and strong and get back to your life."

From my Father (a Marine):

"Be strong.  You need to get back to work and on with your life. "

They must have had some sort of "what to say to your daughter when her boyfriend dies" class in the USMC Officer's Training School.
From my Mother:

"I know you are upset, but think how upset I am!  You are my daughter and seeing you so sad is very hard on me.  I wish you would understand that my pain is even worse than yours!"

and her other gem...

"Well, given your age and the fact that Mark is dead.  You are probably never going to get married and have children. You should go to midwifery school and get your Master's degree."

Someone please tell me that I am not the only one with parents like this! What completely insensitive or thoughtless things have your family ever said to you?

Until That Day, I Had Been The Sane One.

Before I met Mr. Misha, I was in a relationship with a man named Mark. We were together for almost 3 years when he was killed in a car accident. I was devastated. Not only had I lost someone who I loved, I had lost the future we had planned together. I don't know if I could have made it through without the love and care from my friends and co-workers.

I had made it through the funeral mass. It was a full law enforcement type funeral with Sheriff's Deputies in their dress blues, a color guard and bagpipes. I didn't want to ride in the family car to the cemetery, so I went in my friend Val's car. The funeral procession was long, we had a police escort and Val was only a few cars behind the hearse.

I kept thinking about Mark being in the back of that hearse. I kept thinking that he probably didn't like what he was wearing. I hoped he'd forgive me for burying him in a long sleeved shirt. I just kept thinking about everything and couldn't really focus. My mind was reeling.

When we arrived at the cemetery and went to the grave site, it started to hit me. Mark was going to be put in that hole in the ground. I started to feel strange and panicked. Once he was in the ground, that was it. I didn't like the finality of burial. Val could sense I wasn't thinking straight and walked me to my seat. I was seated between Mark's mother and his Aunt, who is a Nun.

The burial ceremony went as it was supposed to, I guess. I really wasn't paying attention. I just kept staring at the casket and the hole in the ground. In fact, I started to obsess about the casket and the hole. I really didn't want the casket to go in the hole. I started to think to myself, "Holy Hell Michele, you are going to be one of those crazy women that throws themselves on the casket." Then I would think, "If the casket doesn't go in the hole, then it is not over. I don't have to try and live my life with out him." I knew that this was crazy thinking, but it didn't matter.

If Mark was in the hole, I had to start living my life again. I didn't want to. If Mark wasn't going to be in my life, then I'd rather just live in the limbo I had been living in for the past 6 days; Someone fed me breakfast, then I took a shower. I sat around and cried, and then someone would give me lunch. I would cry some more maybe even take a phone call or two. Then someone would feed me dinner and give me some pills. Then I would go in OUR bedroom, lie in OUR bed and toss and turn all night. Then it would start all over again. I was never alone, I didn't have to make any decisions, I didn't have to talk or I could talk all I want.... ramble on and on, and some one would have to listen. Once he was buried, I would have to move on, and I didn't think I could do it.

I was gonna get in the hole with him. (I decided in my mind that I was going to do it. When I made the decision, my tears stopped. I had been sitting there with tears streaming down my face and suddenly with that decision, the faucet was turn off. But as the casket was descending into the ground, the priest announced that the Deputy Sheriffs Association had brought roses for everyone to throw in the hole (he didn't say it that way, but you know what I mean). I watched as hundreds of people stopped by the hole and threw in a rose and paid their final respects. It seemed to go on forever. I knew if I tried to jump in the hole while they were around, one of them would stop me. I started crying again, this time harder. I could feel Aunt/Sister Mary put her arm around me and squeeze. I just cried harder.

After what seemed like an hour, everyone except my girlfriends*, had flung their flower. I watched as my best friends went up to the hole. Sally looked pale as she said goodbye and threw her flower, then came Trixie. Then came Brittney, whose mother had died a mere 4 hours after Mark had passed away. Then Izzy went and finally, Roxie. Roxie threw her flower in the hole and started to turn around, her foot slipped on the soft ground surrounding the hole and SHE STARTED TO FALL INTO THE HOLE! Roxie reached out and grabbed Izzy's arm. Then they both started to slip into the hole. Izzy's husband grabbed onto her and started to pull them both away from the grave. (This was no easy feat, since he did this with one arm in a sling.) Then it hit me, "YOU DON'T WANT TO GO INTO THE HOLE!" I saw the awkward ballet going on between Roxie, Izzy and her husband and I burst into laughter. Sister Mary thought I had gone into a hysterical crying fit and wrapped both of her arms around me and started to pray. In mind I thought, "Oh great now I am going to hell. I am laughing at a funeral with a Nun's arms around me. I am going straight to hell!" My inappropriate laughing stopped and I started to cry again.

Eventually, Izzy and Roxie got away from the grave and I got control of my laughing/crying fits. The funeral goers started to disperse and someone told me it was time to leave. I got out of my chair and went a few steps towards a tree to gather my thoughts. I needed to get my shit together, I couldn't act like a crazy woman at the wake.... there were too many health care workers there, one of 'em would notice and get me admitted to some nut house.

As I stood by the tree, I started to calm down, I started to feel like I could deal with the rest of the afternoon. I wiped my eyes, blew my nose and started to walk towards Val's car. Just then, Roxie came up to me and said; "Dude, I am so sorry that I did that." I replied to her; " Dude, you saved me! I was going to be one of those crazy chicks that jumps in the hole and throws herself on the coffin! When I saw the look of terror on your face, I realized that I didn't want to go there." She looked confused as she said "Really?". I reassured and told her "REALLY! I was gonna jump in the hole, you totally saved me." She just grinned and said, "Anyway I can help out...Dude, you know I am happy to do it!"

Don't Drink? Don't Smoke? What Do Ya Do?

My Nana loved to Jitterbug. She had a regular dancing partner named Johnny, and they would go out dancing on a regular basis. Although she never said it, I think Johnny was Nana's beau. The place they went dancing also served food. Nana would always order a BBQ beef sandwich and a glass of cold buttermilk.

One day, Nana was in town and saw the waitress from the dancing place. The started talking and the waitress mentioned that the previous night, she had seen Johnny dancing with another girl. Nana was very upset. She went home and called her friend a couple of towns away. She told her what had happened. Her friend said, " I know what we will do, we will find you another dance partner!". Nana agreed and the next Saturday night, she and her friend were going on a double date. When Nana asked her friend about her blind date, all her friend would say is that he was a buddy of her boyfriend and his name was Chuck.


Saturday came and Nana was nervous. She hadn't cancelled her date with Johnny, she wanted to stand him up. But Chuck and the other couple were late picking her up. Finally, they arrived and off they went for a night on the town. Chuck was very polite, but a little quiet. Nana and Chuck were sitting at their table and had just finished their BBQ sandwiches. Nana had ordered her usual buttermilk, Chuck had ordered a beer. The other couple got up to dance and left Nana and Chuck alone. Chuck asked Nana if she wanted a beer, she said she didn't drink alcohol. Nana asked Chuck if he danced, he said no. Chuck asked Ferne if she smoked, she said no. Nana asked Chuck what he liked to do for fun, he said drink and smoke. Their first date did not go well. Why they ever went on a second date, is beyond me........


Several months later, Nana was in the kitchen with her mother and father having breakfast. They heard a knock on the door. Nana, still in her robe and slippers, answered the door. It was Chuck, the young man she had been dating. He looked very serious. She took him into the living room and they sat down on the love seat. His hands were shaking and he was starting to perspire. He looked into Nana's eyes and said;


"Ferne, I love you. I want to marry you."

He then took out a ring and put it on her finger.

She looked at it for a minute and replied;

"Chuck, I will marry you. But that is the ugliest ring I have ever seen in my life and I wouldn't be caught dead wearing it."

Chuck smirked and said;

"Fine, then get dressed. We will go to Columbus and you can pick out the ring that you want, but I am only spending $200.00"


They were married a few weeks later. They stayed married for 44 years until Chuck passed away. Nana used to tell that story over and over again. I was the only one in the family that didn't roll their eyes when she told the story, so about a year before she died, Nana gave me the ring she picked out in Columbus. I wear it every day and think of her.

Broken

I have been working a weird schedule lately. I usually am more kind to myself when scheduling my nights, but not this time around. I worked 2 on, 2 off, 2 on, 3 off, 2 on. It was brutal. Add to that the pollen and wind and I am broken.


I have no voice. I can whisper, but that is about it. I am trying not to talk at all. I tried fingerspelling with Mr. Misha, but he doesn't know any ASL. So I send him texts and emails. He seems to be enjoying the silence. Hopefully, I will have my voice back soon.

My feet are swollen. HUGE. So huge that on my last night at work, I could not fit them all the way into my work clogs. I have been taking diuretic medication and elevating my feet. The swelling has gone down tremendously, but I still have pitting edema in one foot.

I am giving myself until Monday to be cured. If not, I will call the doctor. I don't expect him to be able to do anything, but it will get my mother off my ass.

Today is her 65th Birthday. I am going to try and get Mr. Misha to sing happy birthday to her for me while I whistle along. She is mad at me right now because I told her to "get off the cross" during our conversation the other day. Maybe we will luck out and she won't answer the phone.

Happy Weekend everyone!