Caillou!

"Mommy, you're going to be just like Caillou!" chirps 3-year old Paul enthusiastically.

He can't wait.

Last time I came back from a doctor visit, Paul remarked, with a small bit of disappointment "I thought you were going to lose your hair at the doctor's office?!"

We took the BC Ferry back from Vancouver Island yesterday -- the one with the marvelous lunch buffet complete with a spectacular view of sea, sun and island shores. BC Ferry terminals are, like, well, AWESOME (make big eyes here), like TOTALLY awesome. While we wait for the Ferry, Paul plays on the playground with Francois while Delphine and I visit the ladie's room and the small open air market.

There's a guy selling sunglasses at half-price. Sunglasses!!

That's it. I'm going for the Jackie Onassis look complete with scarf and a bit of Caillou's rather slow-processing optimism.

Even Delphine, my 8-year old fashion critic, says that I look great in my sunglasses ("with HAIR" she warns me, briefly flashing her stubborn, suspicious, angry eyes -- Delphine would never make a good potato head. She's always worn too many emotions on her face at once.)

The sunglass stand is right next to the 'policemen-biking-for-the-fight-against-cancer-in-Canada' stand. There's a group of 50-year old, incredibly well-built men in bright yellow biking body gloves switching off on a single stationary bike. We're all waiting for a ferry, so, uh, the same people keep walking in circles from the market to the playground to the bathrooms, passing the body-glove men over and over. Each time you pass, they flash you a huge "HI!" as if you're an old dear friend from college they've not seen for 32 years.

I am a cancer dweeb when it comes to running into cancer activists out and about. I have this kind of funny internal smile I try on -- It's like I think I'm supposed to bond with these people somehow 'Hey! Yeah! I've got cancer too! Yeah! Cool." It's exactly like the annoying urge I have to go up to people I hear speaking French and announce to them "Hey! I'm MARRIED to a French man!"

I imagine THEIR internal response is, as my mother would say..."And you're telling me this because....??"

So I'm looking at the $20 sunglasses, on sale for $10. Those are the cheapest. The guy who runs the stand has a good face. He's a good salesman.

I feel like being sold.

He tells me he has these great $40 glasses on sale for $20 which are, apparently, very HOT right now because, wow, man, the Australian Olympic Volleyball Team wore them!

But what sells me is this --

'People can tell that these are cool glasses when you look at them from the side. See how they get narrow right here?'

Everyone will be able to see how cool my originally-40-now-20-dollar sunglasses look because they'll be able to see the sides of them!

I buy the $20 pair and I pay cash. But I'm embarrassed about spending so much money on a pair of sunglasses, so I tell Francois they were $10.

So Delphine tries to rat me out 'They were $20."

I give her my don't-you-dare-rat-me-out-you-brat eyes.

She gives me I-know-I'm-right-and-you-know-it-to0 mother-superior eyes.

Man.

Sheesh.

I love my sunglasses.

So...cancer update? Not much to say. I see a cardiologist tomorrow for an echo-cardiogram. The heart disease history in my family made me nervous when my oncologist told me about the 2-5% chance of heart failure with this chemo treatment - so we're making sure all systems are go first.

Thursday I have a meeting with Penni from Human Resources at work. Then I see my breast surgeon for our pre-surgery consultation.

I need to get in and see my division chair and make plans for my Fall schedule. I've got to make some post surgery appointments with my physical therapist.

I've REALLY got to clean out the fridge, clean the kitchen and clean the carpets.

And, yeah, schedule a really expensive, deluxe haircut. I've been looking forward to wearing short hair again for a long time.