Two days in a row I’ve gotten compliments from people about how good I look. Ha, I know it’s only because to read here you’d think I was hiding under my bed, gasping for air, looking like some cross between Emily Dickinson and John Keats.
But it nevertheless kind of freaks me out that the farther along we go to finding out what’s wrong with me the better I feel.
Anyway, the Butcher is taking me to the surgeon and I will have news when I return.
Keep your fingers crossed, because the sooner we get this shit straightened out, the sooner this blog can return to the crap it used to be full of.
Thinking joyous, pixie dust, giddy bunny, dancing cupcake thoughts for your health and well being.
(in fact, I think I’m not the only one… you have a lot of positive think out there heading in your general direction)
Lots of tongue kisses.
Well, of course, just the fact that you’re actively doing something about your health removes a lot of stress. So that your already almost irresistible presence adds an aura of calm groundedness. Naturally people notice. Oh, and the surgeon? He’ll tell you that he’s just going to remove the parts that are not really B. So that’ll be cool.
Make him promise to leave all the cuteness in.
Consider my fingers crossed.