Friday the 13th, why Friday, why not Monday?

My daughter Katie and I got laughing about that last night.  Why is Friday the 13th scarier than say Tuesday the 13th? I quite personally believe any Monday is scarier than a Friday the 13th.  Monday the 13th I think is the scariest day of all.

I used to be superstitious.  I would drop salt and have to throw some over my shoulder.  Never remembering which shoulder it was I was supposed to throw it over, I would toss it over both.  I watched a show about how superstitious hockey players are a long time ago. Phill Esposito, one of my favorite Rangers, had this whole pre-game ritual he had to follow or he couldn't go on the ice.

I see it with our team.  I hear tale of some of the ways the guys have to get dressed or do things before a game.  I would imagine me just getting there in enough time and getting into my gear would be my whole ritual lol.

I can remember my Grandma Tav having this whole thing she did, short of curling up in the fetal position, if she spilled oil of all things.  Who ever heard of such a thing?  She probably just made it up, really what on earth is going to happen if you spill oil?  Will your skin get oily and  break out? Will your food never fry right again??

But that's my point, superstitions were made up by someone looking for an excuse to explain something bad that happened.

My best friend was killed in a car accident on Friday the 13th.  Was it the day that caused that accident?  No, I think not.  It was the driver of the step truck who failed to follow the speed limit posted, couldn't stop in enough time at that red light, that hit her from behind.  It was the fact that old cars didn't have the safety features that new cars have and her vehicle crumpled up like a used tissue.

Some superstitions are common sense.  Like walking under a ladder.  Why would you want to do that? There is a good chance there is something on said ladder that could fall and hit you on the head.  Or the ladder could fall over on you and I am sure that would leave a mark.  Breaking a mirror is dangerous too. Not because of the bad luck thing but have you ever gotten a shard of glass in your foot?  Or sliced yourself on a piece of glass? It hurts!  Open an umbrella in the house?? That's like running with a lollipop in your mouth in Motherland. A huge no no!  You'll lose an eye or choke to death...Wise reasons to follow stupid superstition.

There was a documentary on maybe Discovery about how dangerous superstitions are.  The gist of the documentary was that yes they might seem harmless but it was a belief in superstitions that sent how many people to their untimely deaths in Salem, Massachusetts once upon a time?  That had hoards of black cats massacred in the middle ages, that have albino children killed in Tanzania to this very day....they can be truly dangerous.  Broke me of the need to believe in them after I saw it.

So relax people it's just a date on the calendar.  It's just a black cat crossing your path, go ahead and open your umbrella in the house, scratch your palm if it's itching and step on that crack or line, I bet I won't look like Frankenstein.....knock on wood.

I have a lot of nothing to say today....

I was sitting here, staring at my computer trying to work.  But my work is utterly boring.  All numbers based, and for those of you who know me, I am more like the socks I like to wear to CrossFit

I'm not the all making sense and calculatable type like my work.  I have never been the numbers or spread sheet lover, and it's all I've done for the last 11 or so years.  Regardless.

There are thoughts in my head just dying to make their way into this world so I figured my blog about nothing would truly be about nothing and everything today.

I have been up since 4:30 with hungry, yelpy, thirsty puppies.  As I stumbled downstairs to clean their pen before the kids started making their way down, I was grousing away under my breath. I was none too happy to see the little babies at this early hour, until one put her paws up on my leg and looked at me with her brow all furrowed as if to say, "why so grouchy Mama, you always pet us and love us when you see us first thing". Alright my heart melted and I pet the little beast and her sisters, gave them all big dog biscuits to gnaw on after their breakfast was done, and went to sit for a few before I had to hit the day. Clock on the wall says it's now 5:15ish.

As I sat I realized it would be the optimal time to make lunches so I decided to get up and do that instead of just wasting time, Timex time? 5:30ish.  

A few more minutes of sitting, I watched the weather and thought another Africa hot kind of day, then I went and woke everyone up.  Your time according to my cable box,  6:00am.

TA-DA  My day has started.

I made myself a cup of coffee, started cleaning out the sink, ironed a shirt my daughter wanted to wear today that I remembered on the ironing board. Go back to scrubbing the cookie sheet from last night's cookie bake, put the dishes in the dishwasher and dry off my hands.

I run back upstairs to make sure everyone is awake, it's now 6:30 only to find my 11 year old asleep still and her bus is coming in 20 minutes!  Get her clothes together, her hair done, find her tooth brush, make her a bagel with peanut butter, run upstairs to get her a pair of socks while she packs her backpack and grab two puppies from the pen who are crying and need to go out.

In the meantime my two high school daughters had come down, made some breakfast, walked outside to the car and bid me goodbye and off they go in one of our cars to another day at the "best high school in the nation" according to the morning announcements.

I sit on the stairs, I am tired, and start making a mental checklist of all I have to do today.  Thankfully there's no soccer on Wednesdays.  I have to get my work ready for my accountant, I have a mountain of laundry in my laundry room that needs to be addressed.  There are pictures that need to be rehung since we got the house painted, the floors are in dire need of a vacuuming.  I think I know what's for dinner tonight, so I can get that ready before I go tonight and that will be good.  I am recovering from straining my back a week ago, so my workout will be light and easy again today and I stayed home from CrossFit so I wouldn't even be tempted to try today's awesome workout in honor of 9/11.

I pop on FaceBook and Twitter because I need to waste time like I need a hole in my head, but some times, that escape into my cyber world helps maintain my sanity and think I wish I had something worth value to blog. But I don't and I want to write so here I sit, trying desperately to think. 

I put my Beats on, listen to some music that usually peps me up, the Steve Aoki remix of Kid Cudi's Pursuit of Happiness is where I start because I was listening to it yesterday and never finished. This song makes me smile for whatever reason. And music tends to be my muse. Not today.  I think my brain is too tired.

I got thinking is it disrespectful for me to blog such blandness on a day like today?  It is 9/11 and we did live through such tragedy.  I will definitely pull out the 9/11 box from under my bed and let my girls leaf through the newspapers, magazines etc. that I have kept in a time capsule for them someday. Like most horrific historical events I know this day will never be forgotten, ever. I will remember every moment, frozen in frame and in time, from finding out what was going on to, to finally reaching my dad in the City and telling him to get home because he will never find a train to get home with everything going on, to worrying about a cousin who works in the Pentagon, to going to church and sitting with all of the other dazed people, crying and wondering why there is such craziness in this world, all the while holding my then 2 year old and hoping for peace in this world for her and all of my other girls someday. But the business of living is exactly what we should all be doing so I guess I will continue to write.

I have my spreadsheet open now, I open it without even realizing that I'm doing it.  I change the dates and get ready to enter the numbers that stare at me and mock me.  Taunt me with the banality that is the bookkeeping chore in front of me, and settle in to work and my blogging has to be done.  The creativity that demanded an outlet is quashed, not allowed to continue.  I have to be a responsible adult now and work.

Someone deliver me from the land of numeral Hell....

My creativity is sadly curled up in a corner of my brain not to be bothered right now.  Shhhh, be quiet! I mentally yell at it as I pick up a pink pen and start doodling my favorite doodles....

Femmaballs

No idea what that means, I believe I have them, but it's a term we came up with this past weekend when I met some friends in Dallas.  We had a raucously good time.  A couple of women and my new gay bff because like in Kick Ass, a girl needs to have one of those, just cutting loose in the land where everything is bigger. Parties definitely and fun included.

It was like a giant slumber party.  What girl doesn't love a slumber party?  It conjures up the images of a bunch of females all giggling and staying up into the wee hours of the morning.  Secrets are shared, startling truths spoken out loud....

This big girl slumber party was no different.  It was amazing when I think about it.  The similarities all the same, except now the secrets are more than, "I like Brad and we kissed behind the Shoprite last night". And we don't have a mom yelling upstairs, or down, wherever we might have been sleeping, to quiet down and get to sleep.  There was some jumping on the bed, me singing out loud in the morning one morning to wake everyone up, the secrets juicier,  the boy talk wayyyy past who was cute, the drinking legal now and way more copious.

The women I met up with came from this group of friends that I met online when the Twilight craze hit.  We all managed to meet on Twilight Moms, I cannot believe I just admitted that out loud haha!! But we did meet there, in this secret part created called the Basement.  You had to ask to join the Basement and wait for approval.  When I saw this section of what was a rather innocent website I requested to join.  There was one area of the Basement I frequented, The Barge, and this is where I met my buddies.  We had so much fun there, getting rather randy being able to hide in our secret world.  Then, just like that, one day when I went to access the Basement, it didn't exist anymore. Our section got unceremoniously booted off of the site for some reason!  Although my friend I met in Dallas for the first time proudly admits she told them she was leaving because they were fricking Twilight Nazis.  Basically you had to listen to their drivel about these books or be shunned, which was what happened to the rest of us. So there I was, staring at my computer missing these women I had been meeting every night for how long??  I remember telling my husband I felt like someone punched me in the stomach.  I had come to regard these woman as my girls.  People I could let down my hair down around without fear of condemnation.

Then I got an email from one saying they created a site for just us. As one of my friends said, I remember this quite vividly, she felt like "Johnny no mates" after she got kicked off of Twilight Moms.  We had formed this bond, we had fun together.  And then Facebook became all the rage and we formed a closed group on FB where we all still meet every day.  Just checking in, commenting on this or that, posting pictures we like. Sharing problems we are dealing with.  A support group for the demented!!

We are a motley crew.  We live all over the US, plus England and Australia.  All different walks of life and professions, different ages, some married, some not, some with kids, some without.  And every now and again there will be a meetup, where our virtuality becomes reality.  That is what this weekend was all about.

Two of these women I had met already, and meeting another one for the first time.  But it felt like, when I hugged her when I finally saw her face to face, that I had known her for years, and after all, I have.  Toss in a friend she brought, who I loved to death, and another of her friends, my Papi, and our weekend was complete!

I won't bore you with the details, but this was a slumber party on steroids.  One that was borne from a Twilight basement that lasted for days that included, Bloody Marys, Patron, Sake, Grey Goose, Blue Moon, Lotto Moscato, me rapping Big Sean for Donell, gay bar hopping until the wee hours and people partying it up and rocking harder than they had in a very long time. It was an amazing few days to remember, or sort of remember, or maybe we should forget, and one where I really can't share any pictures from. Although there are a few Vines that no one will understand and make me belly laugh every time I see them.

When I mentioned to my friends I was thinking about blogging this I promised them all the names would be changed to protect the innocent.  And one chimed in, what about the guilty?? I had to laugh.  That is sooooo how we think!

We were certainly guilty of total debauchery this weekend.  It will easily take another almost 2 years to recuperate. I think my liver packed it's bags and left for vacation after Saturday night.  But recuperate we will.  Smile at the goofy stuff we did, laugh with each other as we share even more big girl secrets we created from the trip.

All in all, a successful DB meetup, and of course we started planning for our next one before we even finished this one.

Anyone up for NOLA, 2014??

My First Kiss Went a Little Like This....

Ah, first kisses....romance's first blush on someone's face perhaps bringing about the first meeting of lips.  It should be such a memorable thing.  Happily it was for one of my daughters.  A boy she has been rather smitten with in what seems like forever gave her two first kisses that were as she described, "magical".  That made me smile.  How quickly that magic is fleeting for our kids anymore.

When she called me to furtively whisper into her phone the details of said smooches, whispering because her friends were around and she wanted this for just my ears, I have to admit I smiled for her.  Happy in the fact that her first kisses were exactly what she had dreamed them to be....

It got me thinking of how I dreamed my first kiss to be. I had hoped my crush at the time would decide I was beautiful.  A girl that he saw in his mind's eye all the day.  That he would try to talk to me, take me aside, maybe walk with me and hold my hand.  Profess how much he liked me maybe, and then sneak that first kiss I longed for.

Alas, it was not at all like that as I remembered mine. I was hoping to find the butterflies that my daughter did, but there were none of the good kind.  It wasn't at a formal, with me in my princess dress, looking just stunningly perfect, slow dancing with the boy of my dreams.  

I guess the kiss was memorable, I can remember who it was with and remembering being scared out of my mind.  It was during a game of spin the bottle at my first boy/girl birthday party in the sixth grade I think it was.  The bottle kept spinning and hitting everyone else, then the guy I had been crushing on, the one I wished so desperately would like me back, spun it and it landed on me.  He kissed me and it was over pretty quickly.  

But how I held on to the details of that kiss. Nothing magical really to report. Being the awkward, overweight, and not nearly as attractive as my contemporaries girl in my class, it would be a long while before I received another.  I was hoping my crush would decide he couldn't live without me, that my daydreams about him would come true but it was more like "ack, I've been kissed by a dog!  

Ok, maybe he didn't run around wiping his mouth off, screaming in horror, but his reaction definitely wasn't one like he was seeing skyrockets and fireworks because of his lips on mine.

Was it wrong of me to be secretly pleased that my daughter's first kiss wasn't like this?

She's only 13, well almost 14, I guess she's not that young, but in my heart I know I am truly thrilled her first kiss was nothing like mine.  That when she is listening to her daughter call her and tell her about her first kiss, she will conjure up these happy memories.  Her heart will jump a little remembering it, a little smile might play across her lips. I hope that my future granddaughter will be able to tell her first kiss tale as happily, and dreamily, as my daughter told hers to me.

Well I guess my first kiss was not picture perfect.  Not nearly as beautiful as my daughter's.  My memories didn't make me smile, blush a little, and relive that moment in teenage girl bliss. But I guess you never forget your first kiss now do you?

Today is not my Un-birthday!

Since today started out so beautifully even before I woke up, I understand the heavens tossed handfuls of stars to make it rain like glitter, when my alarm went off my husband made me turn it off and stay in bed.  No morning routine for me today!  WOW!!  As I lay there snuggled underneath my comforter all downy and fluffy thoughts started swirling around in my head.  This blog was born as sure as I was on this day!

I have everything I need and most of what I want, I am blessed that way.  When my daughters asked what I wanted for my birthday that is what came tripping from my lips.  Really I don't need anything, but I did say to them, what I wanted was a day I didn't have to ask anyone to empty the dishwasher, pick up after themselves or be a referee.  A day with no bickering or back sass would be nice.  Perfect gift, just the right size and that is what I truly want.

I wish for a world where the least of my brothers and sisters, animals, children, the eldery, differently abled, the homeless, know love, kindness and mercy that we are supposed to show one another. Especially those that are weaker and/or less capable than we are and truly need us to help them.

I would love it if my dad would call me with my perfunctory old phone call.  Every year, without fail, I'd get my "you're getting old kid" call.  I would counter with something like, "when did this happen dad??"  Then he'd tell me to be grateful I woke up another day, lived another year because, "the alternative is worse".  The world according to Bubby (my dad's nickname), I'd say to him.  He always had little nuggets of wisdom to share and not a day goes by that I don't wish I could hear him pop one off for me....

I want the world to be a better place for today, so my friends instead of getting something for me, do something on my behalf.  Practice one random act of kindness to a stranger today, it can be small and simple, but something that makes someone smile.  It is already Earth Day, let's make it People Being Good to Each Other on Earth Day.

As I am mentally blowing out my candles and making my wish I wish for it to be a good day for everyone today too.  I want it to be a good hair, awesome outfit, light is always green, primo parking place kind of day.

And if anything good like this happens for you today, let me know because that would be an amazing gift to give me, to know that my friends are sharing in my good day too.  It will make my birthday more amazing than it already is.

Happy birthday to all of us!!

I want to rock a white tutu..

Yeah, I'm a typical female when it comes to emotions.

I am an emotional eater.  If something upsets me there is nothing a chocolate chip cookie, or a dish of ice cream or maybe a slab of chocolate cake cannot fix in my mind.  Notice how I didn't say some carrots or an apple would help..Probably why I struggle with my weight the way I do.  But, as always, I digress....

Another emotional thing I like to do is shop.  Shopping is a lovely form of therapy that doesn't add to my waist line.  Yesterday I took my girls shopping.  To soothe the sting of not freezing our asses off in Minnesota for Spring Break, my husband surprised us with a trip to Fort Lauderdale.  Of course that meant we needed some new stuff to beach it up with.

I took two of my girls with me, nothing like shopping with your daughters.  We love going to places like Ross's or TJ Maxx to see what kind of bargains we can scare up.  That's typically our first stop.  This trip was no different.  You know you're in trouble when you send them in ahead of you while you take a phone call, you get in and they say to you, "don't freak out when you see all the stuff in the cart...."

Anyway, after much picking and loading of the cart, we headed towards the dressing room.  You could only take 8 items in at a time so I volunteered to stay with the cart and their other stuff.  As I was standing there a flash of white caught my eye.  I looked down the aisle I was standing at the head of to see a little girl, maybe 4-5.  She obviously picked out her own outfit, I have to applaud her mom for letting her, because she was dressed in a typical little girl's dream outfit.  She had on a pink top, black pants, silver shoes and the piece de resistance a big, white tutu.  She had these crazy curls that were wildly flailing around as she danced to her own private Swan Lake while her mother perused the aisle.  I had to smile, and even wanted to clap when she was done with her little dance because her mother was oblivious to a performance I would chose over any of Anna Pavlova's.  Then I watched as my girls came out of the dressing room one at a time in this outfit or that.  I saw them tugging, pulling and readjusting what they had selected to try on. Rarely dancing their own Swan Lake in what they picked.

It got me thinking, when do we lose that confidence as women?  Why do we stop wearing wearing white tutus and silver slippers in the same outfit?

When do we stop loving what we are wearing and how we look so that we stop dancing our own private ballets in public?

As I came back to reality, and I watched said little girl begin her dance anew, it made me wish for my teenage girls to have that little girl swagger.  The "I'm taking over the world wearing a tutu so nah nah nah on you" bravado.  Sadly the time is so fleeting from what I have seen from my own girls.

This time I did clap as she curtsied to her imaginary audience.  I gave her a brava!  She smiled and went by her mom obviously pleased that someone liked her performance.

It made me wonder what would happen if we all rocked that tutu a little longer?  I want my very own white tutu, I want one for each of my girls....

Well Now It Hurts, and I'm Not Touching it...

We interrupt the blog post I was previously writing to bring you this news flash lol!

I went back to St. Francis today.  Dr. DogFur called the Dr. at St. Francis that wrote my radiology report and told him he didn't agree with what was on there.  The Dr. at St. Francis did not concur with Dr. DogFur.  So they decided that I would go back to St. Francis for yet another ultrasound, then, if it was necessary, a biopsy.

This sat ok with me.  I didn't like the thought of waiting six months and getting a recheck.  What if this is a thing, as my cousin called it? I let it grow inside me for 6 months.  What if it's an aggressive thing?  I wasted 6 months not beating it into submission.  That is just not something I was willing to do.  So I went back.

I had to be there at 8:30.  Brad came with me, I needed him to be with me in case I needed the biopsy. I have been wrestling with getting a needle stuck in my boob. Definitely didn't relish the thought of that.  They called me back.  Brad and I got up to go back and the nurse said, "sorry he can't come with you."  I felt like the floor dropped out from under my feet but I thought that was just for the ultrasound.  There are many women back where they were taking me getting mammograms and such, must be they didn't want some random guy back there.  Surely if I need this biopsy he'll be able to be with me.

Nicest radiology nurse though, she took me to a cubicle where I could "undress from the waist up" yeah, I know the drill.  Robe opens in the front, I'll open the curtain and let you know when I am ready.  I start undressing and there is the mirror there.  I am staring into it, watching in some kind of macabre fascination at the woman who is getting changed in front of me.  I am looking for myself in this reflection, but I see someone so unfamiliar.  Scared, alone, feeling out of control.  I shook my head, closed my eyes, wrapped my robe around me and slid the curtain open.

The Nurse came and got me, she sat with me and explained how they were doing the ultrasound first. That maybe the first one was wrong if the surgeon, Dr. DogFur, didn't see it.  She had me drop the right side of my robe and she proceeded to ultrasound me.  There it was, plain as day.  Foiled again I thought.  I was hoping Dr. DogFur was right, but that was not the case.  She put a towel on my right side to cover me up and said she would get the Dr. who would be doing the biopsy to come in.  In the meantime we chatted away.

What a nice woman this radiology nurse was! Her name was Carrie.  Her fiance is in the Navy and he's stationed in Florida and he's a Crossfit enthusiast.  Anyway, that got me started, yay!  I have something to talk about so I can forget I am laying here getting ready to have my right boob skewered.  She mentioned I was in great shape, I told her it was because I did CrossFit and that's when she told me about her fiance.  I told her how much I loved Crossfit Midlo, the owners, the coaches and the people that I worked out with.  All in all an amazing community.  She countered with she wasn't in good shape and how could she possibly keep up with everyone.  Oh, give me the chance to expound the virtues of CrossFit!!  Like I said, she got me started, and I spent the better part of 20 minutes telling her she needed to get herself to CrossFit Midlo and get involved in what might be the best workout she's ever done.  I needed this diversion!

Finally the Dr. was done biopsying the liver he was working on and came in.  Nice guy, young, sheesh, I should have asked Doogie Howser for his credentials I was thinking when he said he was going to do one last ultrasound.  My boob was a pro at them by now.  Ok, hit it at 11:00, and there it is, once again.  He put the wand down and said he didn't feel comfortable just leaving this alone and not figuring out what it was, we were proceeding with the biopsy.

.......I WANT BRAD HERE WITH ME NOW!!! But nope, that was not to be.  Bad experiences previously when they allowed supporters back during procedures.  Now, you had to go it alone, there was that woman's reflection from the dressing room mirror again......

Then he said to Carrie get the kit out.

gulp

Didn't that sound ominous?  Ok, this is happening I realize.  They are going to cut into me and I am getting this thing biopsied.  Sweat started blooming across my forehead.  I remember stupidly thinking, I'm glad this isn't a mammogram because then I wouldn't be wearing deodorant and with me sweating like this, no bueno...my mind switched gears, came back to the present and I was watching Carrie get the stuff out of the kit. I saw various syringes,  other things that weren't easy to identify from my vantage point.  I watched the Dr. gown and glove up and I suddenly thought I didn't eat breakfast.  My breathing was getting a little more rapid and my vision was getting a little wavy as he snapped his gloves on and he swabbed me down with Betadine.  I wanted to scream to stop, that I wasn't ready, I wanted time to think about this, I wanted Brad.  Him putting a sterile drape over my breast got me realizing time was out and I needed to suck it up and just do this.  Enough screwing around and waiting I said to myself sternly, the Dr.'s voice jolting me back to reality.  He said he was going to use the ultrasound wand to guide his instruments to do the biopsy, first he was going to numb me.

I asked him to hold up for a minute.  That I needed a second.  I told him I was nervous.  I didn't like the thought of him injecting anything there and I was going to be talking, a lot.  That Brad and I joke around that girls talk as much as we do because we hear voices in our heads and we talk to drown them out.  That those voices were screaming like fools in my head right then and they would have to hear me chatter to drown them out and calm myself.  Carrie and the Dr. thought that was right funny and laughed like loons at that explanation. They assured me that was fine, do what I needed to do.  Then I told the Dr. he would have to tell me everything he was doing because I am a control freak and I couldn't see over the drape and that would keep me sane.  Another round of laughter from the audience, thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week, try the veal...

Ok, I am injecting you with the lidocaine now....

Maybe it was my eyes, maybe it was my hand reaching instinctively for Brad's and he wasn't there, don't know really, but Carrie came over and grabbed my hand and held it.  I relaxed and the Dr.started his work.

I can't say it was bad really, I have been through way worse.  On a scale of one to ten, I'd give a ten, it had a good beat and I could dance to it hahaha, seriously though, I'd give it a 4.  I was really ok, especially after the initial injection.  The end was uncomfortable when he got a second sample of the mass, I didn't like that very much, but it was ok.  I didn't even know when I got my little Titanium marker inserted into the mass.

After I got cleaned up, my incision was glued closed.  Carrie came over and said it was still wet and I couldn't get dressed so I started blowing on the glue to dry it faster. Carrie was laughing at that and started fanning it with her hands as I blew.  She knew I wanted to get out of there.  After a few minutes I was allowed to sit up, then after she made me sit for a few minutes I was finally allowed to stand.  I had to go for another mammogram, to show the Titanium marker and I was done.  I got dressed, looked at myself in the mirror and wondered where that other reflection was.  She wasn't there, I saw myself again and I was glad.  I kept staring at myself thinking only good news was coming my way.  That I was going to fall into the 75% of good new recipients.  I just want this behind me.

I went back to the room where they biopsied me and Carrie was still there.  I thanked her for helping me get through the way she did.  For talking to me, distracting me, and holding my hand.  I hugged her and told her to look up CrossFit Midlo.  That way I'd get to see her again. She was a genuinely nice person and I could see myself being friends with her.

I went out into the waiting room to find Brad.  He was in the corner dozing off. I guess there was nothing good to read lol!  When he smiled at me, I knew I was ok.  He helped me get in my jacket and we walked to the car.  I calmly told him everything they did as we walked along, we got in the car and I promptly burst into tears.

Where the hell did that come from?

I guess I needed to release.  I was so busy joking around, trying to keep myself in control during the biopsy, deal with all the merry-go-round nonsense these last few weeks that those tears got buried and wanted to get out.  I breathed in and out, Brad hates to see me cry, and I gathered myself together.  Brad asked if he could take me for a green tea Frappucino and I readily agreed.  Nectar of the gods those damn things are, I figured I earned one.

So now we wait.  It's only two days.  I will hear something by tomorrow.  I have been jerked around so long it was nice to know I only had two more days to go in this waiting game.

But I know in my heart I will be in that good news percentile.  I won't let it be any other way.  And if you could continue to pray for me for this outcome, I would appreciate it.  These past few weeks' events need only be good fodder for my blog and nothing more.

As always, I will keep you posted.  I can't wait to get back to my regularly scheduled life.....