Five Steps to Making What Might Look Like the End, Just the Beginning


Lemons into Lemoncello

All images courtesy

All images courtesy

Darkness Into Light

Dawn at the horizon

Never looked so bright


On life’s inevitable roller coaster, there’s bound to be those bottom outs. They usually happen as the culmination of a gentle incline, but any coaster rider will tell you, it is the stomach-in-your-mouth, life threatening drop after the chain grinding vertical rise that evoke most terror.–and potential.


How do you recover after such a drop? After the screaming is over, you gasp. You take a lung filling breath. Eyes wide open, grateful to have survived, you look forward to what comes next. A furtive glance to the companions at your side, a momentary self congratulatory sigh and it’s back to navigating the world ahead.

But the landscape has changed.

“T’aint over til it’s over.”

Life’s coaster has not entered the terminal station. Whew. There are twists, curves, soaring heights and  gooseflesh-prickling drops ahead. How do you get back to center–on even tracks?

One- Slow down, pay attention, quiet the mental clatter and breathe. Tune back to your essence. Remember what makes you–you.

Two- Be kind to yourself. This process can no more be rushed than the vegetables in the garden can be convinced to grow faster. The nurturance is kindness.  Give yourself a break. Allow yourself to heal. Now is not the time to try to conform to anyone’s expectations. Give yourself permission to reconnect to that tune that plays in your head–the melody of happiness that leads you to the things. places and people that uplift. What tugs at your heart? Allow yourself to experience it. You need the salve to heal the emotional and physical wounds just past.

Three- Hone in on the powerful. Ask yourself what might be learned from the drop? What happened to me that I might feel good about? Was it a change of heart, perspective, gratitude? It is true that our perceptions create our reality. This process and now are the perti dish of a positive life ahead.

Four- Give yourself permission to live a full happily ever after. Not trying is failing. Begin to look for ways to come back to the table of life…and pursue them. Fear not failure for it is in blunders that true wisdom is cultivated.

Five- Avoid trying to be someone else’s ‘perfect’. None of us are, so set out to find and apply what works for you in this new landscape. See your life shift in the new direction you seek with improved clarity, courage steeped in gratitude and the wisdom that you are more than a survivor. ID-100279860You have chosen  to thrive.


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“You Have Cancer”

In the lottery of life, this is one pronouncement no one wants to hear. Time slows and the world takes on the look of a slow motion, faltering fantasy.

On June 27th, I drew all six numbers in the Cancer lottery.

“Anyone can hide. Facing up to things, working through them, that’s what makes you strong.” 
― Sarah Dessen

For the past seven weeks I have lived, day in and out, not knowing if an extensive surgery would remove the dreaded “C”, or if it had seeped into my bloodstream to be taken to parts unknown. Melanoma is my poison. The same that painfully crumbled and claimed a dear friend–six three, athletic and healthy, at the age of twenty seven. The deadliest of skin cancers, often attributed to sun exposure, but also happens in people with genetic predisposition and in locations never exposed to the sun. (Mine in two locations: inner right ankle and middle right back) So doctors don’t know the whole of it, as is the case in so many maladies. Fair, Northern European blonde and redheads are most vulnerable, but even dark-sinned African descendants get it. So best not to court — wear your sunscreen and protective gear. Not a sun over-indulger, this was indeed a surprise.

Would I live or would I die?

The emotional agony of it could well have been shortened. HMO’s, after all, operate within their own time frame and all the stars must align for the proper doctors to be same time- same place to perform the required surgery. In the world of the wealthy elite in which immediate medical intervention can be afforded no matter the cost, the dreaded pronouncement of cancer can be followed by necessary surgery within days. In the world of HMO, not so much.

Metastasize. Has the cancer spread from its original location?

Find the ‘sentinel node’ – that lymph node that is closest to the site of the cancer and determine if cancerous cells reside there. If they do–more ‘treatment’ – the dreaded chemo and/or radiation–the possibility that it has spread to places yet unknown. If they do not – you are well on your way to being a cancer ‘survivor’. Now all that remains is the surgery and recovery. No small feat in and of itself.


I am in recovery. Surgeries are complete and healing, fingers crossed, will go smoothly, not requiring any ‘re-do’s’.  As I lay in bed, doctor’s orders to encourage best blood supply to aid the healing of the skin grafting, tears run into my ears. The “Call” finally came and I can breathe the air again with the belief that I will most likely live to see my golden years. The sentinel nodes are clear; the border area around the excisions, also clear.

The exhaustion of weeks of not knowing is setting in. Nights of shallow sleep punctuated with wee hours alone in front of a flickering tv, seeing nothing, have permeated every molecule of my body with a kind of fatigue from which one does not quickly recover. I don’t think I will ever see the world in the same way.

Every day is precious; every moment not a given. Yet I am numb – reeling from weeks of interior negotiations on how to die with grace. Yes, I know this life is precious. I always knew that, so the bright colors of sunlight playing in the garden, the smell of a savory dinner cooking, the heart swelling melody of a perfectly sung aria, the flirty feeling of a briny breeze coming off the sea – they all have held my rapt attention in the everyday. Perhaps in that, I am truly blessed. The life of an author is one immersed in awareness and nuance. I am not seeing, feeling, tasting, hearing everything anew or with increased appreciation. In fact, right now I am so shattered, I am lucky to put thoughts to page. I will continue to look for the ‘lessons’–the change.

Words are cathartic. They carry with them a power beyond the here and now. They have the ability to reach into the reality of anyone who reads them and perhaps, just maybe–make some sense in what is their reality. They might lead to thought, to appreciation, to evaluation, to gratitude.

So, my dear friends and readers, I do not have to do as I had planned, given a more negative outcome to the tests, and begin a series of blogs about the long path of fighting cancer. I have not come to you before this precisely because I wanted to spare you even a shadow of the last seven weeks I have lived wondering how, should it be in the cards, to die with grace.

Would I have had the strength for the further good fight? I’d like to think so, but I am wise enough to know that I will never know until and unless that time arrives. We all hope to pass quietly after a well- lived, long and healthy life, peacefully into the great mystery of death. I once again have a chance at just that, as do we all.

No matter what your path, I wish you grace — and to keep living every day with senses wide awake, steeped in gratitude.


Have you had a life threatening incident or events? What have you learnt? What do you now carry with you? What has changed?


My Milo, ever steadfast, watches over me

My Milo, ever steadfast, watches over me

May you have as loyal a friend in your hours of need :)


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Christine (London) In Progress

After a weekend that included blood, sweat and tears,( no, literally)– my website is now hack-free and the “Christine In Progress News & More” sign up is ‘live” and operational!

Those more tech savvy friends may not understand the anguish of we who populate the learning curve battle field inherent in even the most innocuous looking sites. My WordPress, Go Daddy and MailChimp tech helpers are probably talking about the crazed woman who thought the sun would not set when her site displayed a ‘fatal error’ message on all pages and posts. On second thought–they probably have had to talk potential tech-challenged jumpers from office skyscraper ledges and suspension bridges—daily, so my calls and emails were most likely taken in stride as just another day at the office.

*wipes sweat from brow and blows nose*

Tah dah dah dah—

You are invited to the updated website of your friend and humble author, Christine London, at and are cordially requested to sign on for “Christine In Progress News & More”. If nothing else you’ll have a good chuckle should I fall on my virtual face again.

I titled my new writing effort “Christine In Progress” for a reason. This seeming spit and polish struggling author is not ‘all that’. She gets up every morning and faces the great unknown of tech challenges and the spine tingling fear of a blank screen on the word doc of her work in progress, with fortitude and nerves.

For every cool looking photo from a fun or exotic local, there are heart breaking rejections from potential publishers, few and far between downer review from a reader that did not ‘see the light’ quite like the majority, or blooper moments in my ‘real’ life. Like last night, I was on my a** in a blink after stepping in unseen hole at the park while walking the dogs. Ouch! and so not graceful.

Hey, but I remind myself that I am truly “Christine In Progress”. Tomorrow is another chance to get it right and take some baby steps forward toward the goal of entertaining, inspiring, educating and/or uplifting my friends.

…Or maybe just walk down the street without tripping.

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Gran and Kindness

Today is my Grandmother Myrtle’s one hundred eighteenth birthday. She has been gone since 1982 and yet every time I think of her, I remember kindness.

She was the kindest person I have ever known.

Myrtle was one of those people who made you feel special. That is a too rare gift, especially when it is bestowed from an adult to a child.

When I was a kid, Gran went out of her way, quietly and without fanfare, to make sure that I felt every bit as important as the grown ups in her life. She bought play dough and assembled kitchen toys, keeping them stowed in her walk in pantry for any time I might visit.

She valued my exploration and growth more than any precious piece of furniture or beloved collectable and she was wise enough to know how to set reasonable, kind limits.

A collection of records of the day were available to play. I can still hear the old walnut encased record player filling her modest apartment with music.

Gran made the most amazing family style dinners. Pork tenderloin is one I recall. Tender medallions of gravy drenched heaven accompanied with home made mashed potatoes, veggies and what she called “Ice Box Cake” for dessert. This decadent concoction (name reflecting a time before electric refrigeration) incorporated delicate lady finger cakes, butter, chocolate and whipped creaminess filling. Heaven.

lady fingers

image of lady fingers

Ice Box Cake

4 eggs

1 cup granulated sugar

1/2 pound sweet butter

1/2 bar Bakers sweet chocolate

2 1/2 dozen sponge cake lady fingers

Melt chocolate with one teaspoon water. Stir until smooth. Cream butter in medium bowl. Add in sugar, then add chocolate. Beat four eggs for five minutes in separate bowl, then add mixture to eggs and beat until creamy.

Grease 2 ice cube trays with cooking spray or oil. Slice lady fingers in half horizontally and line the trays. Pour 1/2 chocolate mixture and spread to cover ladyfinger layer. Repeat with second layer of lady fingers, chocolate–ending with lady fingers on top.

Chill overnight in ice box.


Gran was Norwegian.  Her mum immigrated to Chicago from Norway as a young woman in the late nineteenth century. Great gran was a widow too young and raised seven children with the help of what has also largely gone out of fashion–her family and neighbors. Gran was number six in line. Her great gran, or so the story goes, was a baker in the royal court, so she came by her baking wizardry honestly. Before the days of low fat this and reduced calorie that, we enjoyed reasonable portions of real food that nourished our bodies and our souls.

Thank you for taking me to the toy store ‘by accident’ as we did your errands in Chicago’s ‘Loop’ together. Thanks for buying a small trinket there to make me feel special. Thanks for letting me dig in your garden. Thanks for the memory of rich cooking aromas and laughter.

Most of all, thank you for making me feel like an important person at a time when the old adage ‘children should be seen and not heard’ was still largely accepted as wise.

I loved you then, I love you still and as long as I live, you will be alive too, not only in my heart but in the ways you taught me. First and foremost–be kind.


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Because I Love My Regular Readers

You’re receiving this because I adore you

Hopefully the feeling is mutual

Melbourne Totems

New gray hairs demonstrate my tech savvy while trying to figure out how to manage this new platform of staying in touch.

No, you did not suddenly go senile and forget signing up for Christine In Progress. This email is what you might look forward should you decide to go to my BLOG at

…and sign up.

Yes, dear London Blog friends….I am spamming you. Just this once–honest.

I’m figuring that a ‘pretty please’ might be incentive enough for you to take a minute to click over to

and type in your name & email in the boxes below the headshot of me in the blue turtleneck: “Sign Up for ‘Christine In Progress News & More’ ” – click

Oooohhhh…Pretty Please?


Welcome to Christine in Progress

Have you ever used Mail Chimp to send emails or a newsletter?

Neither have I.

SO hang with me and together we’re going to discover how to better stay in touch.

There will be stuff there that London Blog readers don’t get. Gotta ‘show up’ (sign up) to play.

Maybe a contest.

Maybe a free read.

Maybe a free download.

Maybe a gorgeous picture.

You know—cool stuff.

Entertaining stuff.

Uplifting and inspiring stuff.

Stay tuned and….sign up!


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In Time Of Trial, I Wish You Grace

If I could say one word to you in time of fear, trial and waiting…

that word would be


Patience to endure the unknowable.

Strength to handle whatever is to come.

Wisdom to accept that all things have their time and purpose.

Friends that will be with you in silence–to listen, to exude love

Time to reflect and be grateful for all that is good

Elegance in acceptance of what is– “It is what it is.”

Mercy and pardon both from on high and in your deepest heart so you will be free from  guilt and self-flagellation

Acceptance  of any perceived weakness and all emotions

Forgiveness where it is needed-of self and others. No one needs carry the burden of a grudge.

Peace to still the quivering heart

I wish you GRACE


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Mt Hood and Columbia River Gorge

June in Portland Oregon region is warm and tender apple green as life bursts forth toward the summer. Azaleas, roses and rhododendrons show off their finery.

Image by C London

Image by C London

Image by C London

Wildflowers dot roadsides; statuesque foxglove spears the swaying grass.

Image by C London


Image by C London

Foliage drifts on the breeze like a bird soaring on an updraft.

Image by C London


The forest floor is shaded and bespeckled with sun. Ferns and tiny flowers share the space with a large variety of green.


The power of the Columbia River is highlighted at Booneville Dam-

–it’s spillway and fish ladder demonstrating the winter’s abundant rainfall.

Image by C London

Mount Hood stand watch over the verdant lowlands, still deep in snow above the timberline.

Image by C London

Travelers who drive up toward the summit are reward with a leisurely sit on the bare wood Adirondack chairs of the back patio of the WPA era constructed lodge, a cool breeze off the snow and the opportunity to see those intrepid souls who hike it’s summit and ski year round.

Image by C London


Resinous pine branches bob under the weight of their new needles. Yellow and white heads dot the underbrush of taller graceful grass rippling gaily in the breeze and rows of tall pines stand guard over the highway–soldiers dedicated to the future on the mountain.

Waterfalls cool the air along the Columbia River Gorge.


Image by C London


Even the city weary and overworked can relax.




   Image by C London

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Yikes–I Think I Have Turned Into a ‘Grandma’


My kids have not had children—yet, but recently I have noticed the definite signs of Grandmother-dom.

Image courtesy

Kids have flown the coup and dang it, I am not yet blessed with human grandchildren. The silence would be deafening—if not for the dogs.

I have had dogs all my life. As most anyone will tell you, training and consistency are the hallmarks of a well behaved, pleasant to be around canine. So too, I have always been consistent in training my dogs. High expectations of compliance have been what I’ve lived by…

…until now.

My name is Christine London and I am a doggie grandma. There. I said it. Is there a twelve step group I can join to confess this truth?

I spoil. Dang it—I even go so far as to encourage the breaking of doggie table manners—101.

Bassett hounds and golden retrievers – past who have shared the surname of ‘London’ have always remained either beneath the table, snoozing, or at a distant from the dining area whilst humans were partaking in food consumption.

Image courtesy

I confess. I have turned into a grandma.

Grandmas are allowed to, even expected to, buy their grandchildren toys and sweet treats far outweighing reason. Gluttony in the name of Grandma’s right to spoil is one of the nicer things about having reached the esteemed age and high office of the elder. We are supposed to be allowed–at least tolerated, as we feed our grand kids three scoop ice cream cones topped with gummy worms, sending them home spinning like the Tasmanian devil to their chagrined parents. Right?

As my Golden Retriever nudges my arm from beneath the table, providing her muzzle as a sort of ‘arm-pit mouth'; I spear a small piece of broccoli and chicken, knowing full well any dog mother would be mortified at what is to come next.

Yes. Golden Kiki opens her mouth in a dainty ‘O’ and turns on the canine vacuum, cajoling the morsels from my tines. No one really noticed, did they?

Image courtesy

Truth be told, I wouldn’t care if they did, because I have officially reached the age and status to do such things and attribute them to having joined the esteemed ranks of grandmother-dom.

So as I offer my tea cup Yorkie, sitting on my opposite side, a bite-sized piece of baked chicken as he stares, on high alert, from his pillow on the chair next to me, you will indulge me right?

I am, after all,  a grandma now.

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“Z” for Zenith

The highest point or culmination – Zenith

As we come to the end of this year’s A to Z Challenge, I want to thank those who conceived of this blogger’s event as well as all the minions who manage the minutia involved in every large undertaking.

Exercising flabby blogging muscles in the spring reminds we who write that it is, indeed possible to create something of entertainment or educational value everyday.

If you have enjoyed this April’s entries, I invite you to click on the “Sign Up’ button to your right–leave your name and email addie–and you will receive a notice every time there is a new posting here.

I hope we get to know each other better in 2014 and beyond through the vehicle of this blog, my books and short stories. Please feel free to comment on any of my past blog entries and together, we shall grow.

Welcome the lusty month of May as we cascade toward summer.

Be well

and smile :)

Other places to connect:

Christine London

Author 100 Romances Best Of the Year, When We Were Amazing
Tweet sweet with Christine at
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“Y” is for Yellow

“They call me mellow yellow.” -Donovon

Have you noticed that many town’s fire departments have traded in the classic red fire engine for a neon yellow model?

image courtesy

Even in low light or at a distance, yellow can be seen better than any other colour.

Yellow is also associated with optimism and cheerfulness. A yellow tone painted on walls suggests sunlight in a dim room or hallway. The highest quality pencils were originally made in China–yellow in homage to their Emperor Huang Ti. Yes–we copied this quality right down to the sunny jacket. Cabs are yellow for the same reason fire engines have gone that route–seen well at a distance.

image courtesy

Mankind’s roots have us hardwired to associate yellow with the sun and daytime when we could go forth, gather food and keep ourselves safer from what lurks in the shadows and night.

The limonoids in lemons help fend off cancer. Bananas? – a good source of Dietary Fiber, Vitamin C, Potassium and Manganese, and a very good source of Vitamin B6.

Post it notes? Uh, sorry—not originally yellow because it makes them easier to see. There was a surplus of yellow scrap paper at the 3M plant.

image courtesy







Add yellow into your life to lift your spirits and colour your world optimistic.

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