Grown women are prepared for life's little emergencies.

Yeah, so now my Mom wants to come up for the surgery. She has to be there for me. It's not possible for me to go thru any traumatic event in my life without her there at my side. My mother's model for behavior when her children or grandchildren are in a hospital is Terms of Endearment. "Give my daughter the shot!"
While she does this out of love (and I should consider myself lucky for that), she's going to be sleeping on my couch in an apt with a free-roaming cat and 2 male roommates. Lovely. I already know how much she's going to hate my apt. It won't be clean enough for her. She'll think my roommates are too messy. The garbage doesn't get taken out often enough (and imagine how she'll feel when she realizes that it can only be taken out on Tuesdays and we have no place to store it). Cat hair on everything. She doesn't trust dishwashers.
My sister Kim is coming too. Mom was perfectly content to come by herself, fly up, but without any thought at all to the fact that she can't drive and doesn't know where anything is around here. Hence, Kim needs to come. But, as Kim pointed out, having that pointed out to Mom just aggravates her prior feeling of helplessness about the whole situation. Which I empathize with but really don't have the time to worry about my Mom feeling helpless right now. Have my own problems, thank you. And Mom doesn't want me to worry about it. What she really wants is for me to come to Virginia where she can properly take care of me after the surgery.
Yeah, that's what she really wanted. I kiboshed that. On the phone, her reasoning that I should come home to Virginia was because I'll be too weak to get up my own backstairs after I come home from the hospital. But not at all too weak to hop on a plane and then endure a drive from Dulles to Stafford, and then stay at her house for two weeks, which, by the way, has stairs.
KIBOSH!
Seriously, I don't know what to worry about more, a surgery gone horribly wrong or two weeks with my mom in my apartment.

Resurrection

So things are a little crazy. As you know, he called and I couldn't have been happier. We have since talked a couple more times and emailed once. It really feels like we could have a chance. There's a hope in me that is undeniable and that makes me think that this is the real thing. But ... there are still some things that make me hesitate. For example, he did just stop talking to me, no explanations, nothing, for 10 months. And we have not talked about that. The other thing is that he's in a rough place. Do I have a choice in taking in part in that?

The other difficulty is that date # 14/15 has indicated a small interest. I'm unsure how to proceed. If he had never called, I'd know exactly what I would do. But now that he has, I know that my feelings for #14/15 are not serious. And, to be honest, I don't feel that they are serious on his behalf. I get the feeling that he's looking for more than me. Except, sometimes, I feel that might be wrong. It might just be difficult for him to express his feelings. And I know exactly what that's like. He could be feeling more, but not showing it for fear of rejection.

What a quandary.

123 Nathan's walk into a bar ...

Ok, so I'm on Facebook now, and I thought I'd search for my brother on there. I typed in his name, and 123 of him showed up. Yikes! So then I thought, I wonder how many of me are on here. Not as many, and the good news is ... I'm the best looking one. Yippee!

My God, it's full of stars.

That's just what I imagined Arthur C. Clarke to say when he went to the great beyond.

Luck of the Irish or Ides of March

I am falling apart at the seams. Today, I went to see why my tooth was still bothering me after the onlay, and do you know? I ended up getting a root canal. yeah, a root canal. Like I don't have enough health issues to worry about.

I finally did my taxes (don't get too excited, I only did the federal ones). That was tedious and I only get a $67 return. Boo. But the good news is that doing my taxes took my mind off the throbbing pain in my jaw.

I still have to do Mass taxes and MD taxes, for being part-year in both. I had to do a MD tax return for two years ago because I filed under a MD address, even though I only lived in MD for 16 days. It actually wouldn't be a problem, except that my work didn't take taxes out of my paycheck for those 16 days for MD. Or, at least I couldn't find any record that they did. So I have to do some research on that. Boo!

And all of this serves only to remind me of how little money I have and how much I'm going to need. Yeah, health issues suck.

On the other hand, I went out for St. Patty's day. You know, it's kind of a big deal around here.

There are so many freaking tolls.

He called again, and he was all "how long a drive is it?" "How many tolls are there?" Still kinda non-committal ... you know, like ... "well maybe one weekend." Oh, I hope he does.

See my smiling face.

Mesha, you are a bad, bad woman. You are very bad. I should not have joined Facebook.

I wonder if I can access it from the work computer.

He called!

He called! He called, he called, he called. He called! I don't care what you say, I'm calling him back this week.

It's this big.

But I don't really know. It could be 7.5 cm wide and like 1 cm flat, meaning it's really this big.

Which doesn't seem so scary.

I was going to post an image of a dermoid cyst. But it's pretty freakin' nasty. I'll save you the gross-out. But if I did post the image, you'd know; it's not a pancake at all.

Estrogen

There are two dermoid cysts; one is about 7.5 cm and the other is about 2 cm. They have to operate.

Careful, they are in no particular order.

check it out, yo!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/31652522@N00/