I may lose a whole bunch of readers.

I don’t care.

As insensitive and unfeeling as that sounds, I just can’t care.

I wrote a post happy about the fact Peyton made it to the Survivor Program in her third year post-treatment.

Never forgetting the friends we had that we lost. Patients that didn’t make it. Sons and daughters who were loved ENOUGH, prayed for ENOUGH, believed in ENOUGH.

A person came here and left a comment that I deleted and answered.

She wrote me in congratulations of “praying my child back to health”.

I wrote her telling her I was removing her comment because she might not not realize that it was a slap to the face to every parent who had lost a child.She answered that I should be “proud” my prayers were answered.

*sigh*

And while I had one entering the survivorship program there is the baby that will always be lost to me.

I prayed.

I believed.

I loved.

I lost.

A lot more than one reader could ever mean.

Not just “A” conference, but “the” conference.

Blogher.

Pete was stuck in a really tough spot.

We pretty much had to make a choice to go back when I didn’t handle crowds at all and I thought road signs were totally dangerous.

Luckily, most of that has changed now.

Hearing in large crowds isn’t great, but I don’t think that traffic cones might kill us.

I’ll be totally honest that I’m nervous like I’ve never been before.

I think of the people who will be seeing me for the first time.  I think of the gawkers, the starers, the look-but-pretend-you-aren’t-so-she-won’t-see-you-ers.  I’m just vain enough to worry about the fact that I won’t be wearing lipstick.  It will be odd when I explain the tape on my glasses.  I’ll be short in my wheelchair.

Then I think about the people that I have had the chance to meet face-to-face.

Comparisons.

The old pre-coma me, with quickness and wit, warmth and compassion. A need for patience when everything is RUSH RUSH RUSH.  I remember.  I’ve been there.

Will they be harsh?

I have no idea.  I hope not, but I really don’t know.

Especially when that person is your spouse.

You promised to love, honor and agree with me in all my ridiculous ravings regardless of the correctness of those beliefs until death do we part….did you not? Oh. Really? I was sure that was in there.  Check the fine print.

Besides the fact that I have a daughter that adores the American Girl dolls and we have spent more than our fair share of cash making sure they stay in business, a small piece of me chafes at them having no real representation of an Asian girl.

Now, if you’re a diehard AG fan, you’ll correct me and say that Ivy is there! Ivy is not even a fully developed character doll, she is there as a “best friend companion” to the Julie series.

Bless her little heart.  Ivy’s character is Chinese-American, she lives in San Francisco and she’s a gymnast.  Really? This is the best they can come up with represent Asian culture? Find THE most stereotypical setting and put her in it?  *and this is the point where I agree with Peter that I probably AM a tad oversensitive*

I believe my exact words during one particular occasion included the words “…and I’ll bet that she plays chess, is good at math and can’t drive worth a damn!”

*ahem*

So, there we are…in the van…driving down the street and I’m halfway through my “WHY couldn’t she be from Missouri?  And her parents could be accountants?  And could she have ANY other life dream other than being a gymnast? MAYBE she could want to be a lawyer!…”

When Peter says, “YOU ARE CRAZY. Pull the van over because obviously you are not mentally fit to drive a vehicle carrying my children. I worry for our lives.”

Which is totally what he said, even though most people would have heard, “Umm, don’t you think you’re being a little over-sensitive about this? Maybe in the 70′s there WERE a lot of Chinese-American girls living in San Francisco that wanted to be gymnasts.  They’re called American Girl dolls…not Korean dolls or Swedish dolls.”

Ok. Well. Good point.

Whatever.

So, I choose to concede that I’m being a little on the irrational side of this issue.  Today.

“You’re right…and they do have an African-American doll set in the time of slavery and they have an American-Indian doll too….”

and my husband says…ARE YOU SITTING DOWN?

“….and let me guess, she can’t hold her liquor.”

And I said the words that most people in my life fear: “I am SO BLOGGING this!”

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If I’m going to be totally inappropriate today, check out THIS gem!I found the only other three Asians at BlogHer, Momisodes Sandy, Karen Meg and Busy Dad Jim and made them take a picture with me! Oh YES I did.  And I told them that in our picture we all had our eyes closed. Heh. Well, except for Sandy. I’m  questioning her Asian-card status.

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And as I hope that my husband and I have suffiently offended enough people to cause floods of readers to come pouring in, therefore providing me with enough money to put a down payment down on those shoes Rachael wants for school…I leave you with the reminder to check out the new posts up at Aiming Low!