My (not so lumpy) lady lumps

Okay, really.

This is pretty much THE LAST POST about my boobs. It’s really just an update, for all the people who may have been “WELL? DID YOU HAVE SURGERY OR NOT?!”

I did.

Easy peasy. Done in outpatient surgery. Sent home with a bucket of Vicodin and an ice pack.

I’ve got a month off to recuperate. And catch up on my homework. And TV shows that I’ve been DVR’ing, but not watching. And do things during the day that I’d normally have to take time off to do. That, of course, will be after I feel better, but before I have to return to work. I’m hoping that this will work out to be at least 2 weeks.

In the meantime, The Man has been making sure I take my meds, feeding me and checking in on me from time to time. And of course, providing sympathy when required:

Me: This newest scar is not pretty at all.

The Man: I think it gives you character.

Me: Really..?

Him: Yeah. You can just tell people you got stabbed in the tit in a bar fight.

Yeah, that’s my man y’all. He always knows just what to say to make me feel better.

 

 

The one where I take more pictures…

The last time I did the picture challenge, I didn’t finish. But I had a lot of fun trying.

This month, Miss and Megan and their love of all things Friends brought this particular photo challenge. So I’m trying again. And with all of my free time, this should be easy right?

I guess we’ll see.

Day 1

I don’t ever drink coffee drinks at home. BUT. This coffee mug with my friends doing headstands on it? Is my favorite coffee mug ever.

Wanna join? Follow the hashtag #FRIENDSpc and add your pics to the Flickr pool.

Veteran’s Day is every day, really

(Which is good, because I just got around to writing this post)

This past week was a double whammy for The Man.

His birthday (He turned 236. Happy Birthday, Honey) was November 10th. And Veteran’s day was the 11th.

I would have liked to done something to celebrate, but we couldn’t. Because I spent a large portion of this week with him in the hospital. He has a completely inexplicable recurring illness that can’t be diagnosed, nor cured. It comes without warning, and all we can do is wait for it to pass.

It’s a souvenir of his first deployment to Kuwait in 1990. He signed up in 1989, right after he graduated from high school. And before he could settle down to his very first duty station, he had orders for his first deployment. After he did his 4 years, he talked about getting out. Told me that he was going back to civilian life, going  to school, blah blah blah.

But he didn’t; he went back for more. Two unaccompanied tours to Okinawa, Three deployments to Afghanistan/Iraq. At least 5 military moves with the family, and all that entails:  including changing schools for 2 kids, and figuring out whether we were going to live on/off base, and supporting a wife who worked intermittently because just when she got comfortable somewhere, it was time to change duty stations. And then leaving said wife and kids because he had a field op/deployment/some other thing that he had to leave for several months missing birthdays, anniversaries, and other things he would have preferred not to miss.

That is what military life is. Missing things that you’d rather not miss, doing things that (sometimes) you’d rather not do. BUT. Being a Marine was what he wanted to do for as long as he can remember.  And even when he hated it, he loved it. 

I’m pretty sure that if he never heard one “thank you” in his entire years of service, he still would have done it. It’s the life he chose for himself.

Still. It’s nice that people are grateful. ‘Cause I don’t know that I’d want to risk my life for y’all motherfuckers.

Just sayin’

 

Facing my fears

I’m one of those people who hate going to the Doctor’s office for tests.

Which is kind of weird, when you consider that I’ve never gotten bad news. Surprising news, yes (What do you MEAN I’m pregnant?!), bad? No.

I made a Mammogram appointment today.

I’ve put it off because breast cancer runs in my family/because I feel FINE/ because I couldn’t possibly have it.

But I can.

So I called. My appointment is November 16th.

Day 2.

Put on your big girl panties and…

Deal.

When Undomestic Diva, who is one of the most fearless broads I know, threw down a challenge to face your fears for 30 days called Operation Eleanor, first I was like Operation ELEANOR? REALLY? But hey, maybe she’s had a life long fear of the name Eleanor. MAYBE THAT’S THE FIRST FEAR SHE FACED.

Whatever. I suppose it doesn’t really matter what it’s called. It’s about putting on your big girl draws and doing something that scares you. Me? I’ve got big fears and small fears. Things that I’ve been wanting do but didn’t, because sometimes I CARE WHAT PEOPLE THINK. SOMETIMES.

Some I’ll post here, and some I won’t. Let just call those PERSONAL VICTORIES. But I promise to take you along for most of the ride. Deal?

Happy November boys & girls. Let the fear facing begin!

 

 

Your argument is invalid

Every once in a while The Man tries to top me when it comes to “Who Loves The Brat More”

Him: I love the baby so much that I watched the Cheetah Girls with her. ALL OF THEM.

Me: I love her so much that I spent 7 months vomiting, and 13 hours of labor pushing a baby out of my cooch. I also got these really awesome stretch marks for carrying a baby around for 9 months.

Him: …

Me: I win.

An Anniversary Story. Sort of.

Yesterday was my Anniversary. This anniversary is kind of weird for me. I have now had my married name for as long as I had my maiden name.  Also?  This is age that I got married: 19. I have been married for 19 years. I am completely shocked that we managed to make it that long. SRSLY.

 

I’m also pretty amazed that he chooses every day to be married to me. Especially when I do things like this to him:

"Congratulations! I've managed to stay married to you for 19 years! I'm awesome (and you're patient)"

 

I wrote this on his car window at 5AM in the dark on my way to the gym. He didn’t even know I had done this until I was LONG GONE on my way to work.  Also? It’s hard to take a picture in the middle of night (or at 5AM) without a flash. And even harder to take a GOOD picture when I’m still mostly sleeping, and I haven’t had any coffee. But it’s the thought that counts, right?

I really am the best kind of wife.