Today my goblet is half full. I love the word “goblet. It is very friendly and it makes me feel medieval when I use one or when I talk about them.
I knew I was back to my old self when I laughed at the chronic overusage of the word “areola” during Best Friends Forever last night.
I’ve never seen that show before (it was on by accident) but obviously they had me at “areola” and quite frankly in my very immature opinion you can’t really overuse that word, it is just always funny. 15-year-old boys everywhere are nodding in agreeing with me right now. Also, not many people get to have the word “areola” very frequently in their lives and so you can thank me later. (You’re welcome.)
Yesterday was the first day in two weeks I felt like a human again, HURRAH! (THE HILLS ARE ALIVE…. WITH THE SOUND OF MUUUUSIC….(I’m spinning around.)
I didn’t feel like I was faking it just to get through the day, I wasn’t trying to hang onto anything for dear life. It was a nice breath of fresh air that the fog had lifted. I showered, put on real non-pajamy clothes and went to lunch for sushi (sweet potato tempura? Yes please.) with my friend Nicole and after that I took up my spot at my favorite purple velvet chair in Starbucks and wrote about Jane Goodall, whom I love.
So finally I got a grip! I almost feel bad for my husband who’s trying to keep up with my psychosis. Although I’m pretty sure he knew this about me going into it 7 years ago. I’m a very emotional and passionate person, it is both my gift and my downfall. My husband likes math. We are very different. (“Different but same.” – Mr. Miyagi.)
I’ve been taking a lot more pictures lately, I think that’s one thing that this whole thing has given me is the need to capture (record?) moments I love and moments that make me laugh, so here are some of the moments that have brought me great joy over the past two weeks:
We went non-candy for Easter and the Easter Bunny brought them mustaches (not just mustaches of course, that would just be weird.)
They looked like porn mustaches though. Stop it, not that I would know. I’m just saying.
Anyhoo I was overjoyed when he felt confident enough to wear it to school. Later, I got a note from his teacher saying he wanted to wear the mustache to lunch but she told him he’d probably get food in it. I like her.
Most of the mustaches are now missing, except for this one:
I can’t bring myself to take it off. I’m looking at it right now.
The Easter Bunny also brought me a Justin Bieber toothbrush. Which I feel bad about because I just got the “Easter Bunny” a card.
I haven’t used it yet. Right now it’s doubling as a radio for the motorcycle stunt show that takes place daily in my house. (“Mommy, we’re doing stunts to Justin Bieber!”)
Oh yes, you probably don’t know that we took a margarita detour after the oncologist appointment last week, I kept that one to myself:
You see, you can make a left out of the hospital where my oncologist’s office is, or you can make a right. Going right takes you home. Going left takes you directly to the margarita restaurant, I mean MEXICAN restaurant, Estelas on Davis Island, which is one of my favorite restaurants on account of their white queso, margaritas and chimichangas. Going left was a very good choice. It was unanimous.
Speaking of margaritas, I got my official extraction date and it’s on Saturday, May 5. He couldn’t get me in before mid-March and that was too far away, so he is coming in on the weekend. Between having his personal email address, a direct line to his nurse, and the fact that he is coming in to take care of me on the weekend, I have decided I will keep him.
Also, he wants me to get to do St. Anthony’s before the surgery since I will be out of commission for 6 weeks afterward. He has friends doing that race and he thinks it will be good for me to have one last hurrah. How exciting is that? He gets me. I’m not exactly ready for the race but I’m happy I get to do it nonetheless. At this point, I don’t care if it takes me 10 hours, I’ll love every second of that race.
Anyhoo, it is not lost on me that my surgery is on Cinco de Mayo, by the way, which also means there will be no margaritas for me that day.
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