Dear Officer

Dear Officer,
I'm sorry I acted like a total chick tonight when you pulled me over. I'm sorry for the tears and the crazy eyes I'm sure I exhibited. I'm also sorry I inadvertently made you feel like an ass. It wasn't my intention. Any other day, I'd have found you funny and perhaps even charming. You just caught me on a really bad day at the end of a really bad week. Please don't let this incident damper your usual sense of humor and desire to have fun with your job. I'm sure almost everybody else appreciates it.

Sincerely,
The sobbing hormone case on Parker Blvd.

Now, a little back story for the rest of you.

Let me preface this with a few facts.

1. I never cry in front of cops, much less to get out of a ticket. I figure if he's pulled me over, it's because I deserve the ticket and I take my lumps. For every speeding ticket I've gotten, there have been a least two hundred times I haven't been caught. I suck it up, I take my ticket and I thank the dude for doing his job.

2. I also have always despised this particular town since I was a new teenage driver over 20 years ago because the cops there are reputed to be assholes. They've been known to pull you over for going under the speed limit because it's a tiny town and all they have to do is fuck with non-residents. I try to avoid it at all costs, but tonight I just wanted to get home, so I went straight through it. Like an idiot.

So, the other day I realized that I have a burned out headlight on the car. Unfortunately, I realized it at 10pm on Thursday and was leaving for Chicago bright and early Friday morning and didn't have the time to fix it. I knew we wouldn't be driving much at night in Chi, so I didn't worry about it and figured I'd get it fixed first thing Monday. No big deal.

Tonight, when Cheese and I got back from Chicago, I dropped her off and went to pick up Big Man for his birthday dinner and our movie date. We spent several hours together hanging out and having a good time and I dropped him off then headed for home.

Now, between his house and mine, there's just one little town.

That little town. And as I drove by the one road that could bypass it (and take me through a different little town, much less populated by cops), I thought to myself, "Shit, I should've turned there. Oh well. I'll be okay."

I eased into town and turned left on the south edge, hoping to skirt around the perimeter and not penetrate the town square where the cops usually set up shop. I went about a half mile and turned onto the next street (just one more to go!) when I saw headlights come flying up behind me. Sure enough, I looked in my mirror and caught a side view of the car as it turned the corner behind me.

Shit.

My speed was fine (again...no stranger to this little donut hole of a town) and I drove the limit as I waited for him to run my plates. A minute later, he popped the cherries on and I pulled over. While he was getting out of the car, I pulled my license out and opened the glove box to get my registration and proof of insurance.

I can't find it.

No, seriously. I can't freaking find it. Now, in the state of Iowa (as it is with most states), it's a big deal not to have proof of insurance. Like $500 worth of big deals. (Ask me how I know.)

I hear his car door shut and see the flashlight in my mirror and know that having a driver digging around in their car can scare a cop, I stop and wait for him to come up. I hand him my license and he's nice as can be. 

Cop: Hi, ma'am. How are you tonight? Did you realize you have a headlight out? That's why I pulled you over.

Me: Yes. I'm sorry. I realized it when I was out of town and I'm just arriving home after being gone all weekend. 

Cop: It's okay. It happens. I just need your registration and proof of insurance.

Me: Yeaaaaah. (as I look at the pile of crap I've pulled from the glove box) I don't know where my registration's at. It's usually in the glove box, but all I can find are my car repair receipts (apparently, every single one for everything that's ever been done to this damn jalopy).

Cop: Okay, no problem. It's not as important as your proof of insurance.

Me: *sadly* It's with the registration. We keep them together.

Cop: Okay, well, you keep looking for it while I go run your license real quick. If you find it, just hold it out the window, okay? *sparkling smile* (Hey, I was stressed, not totally blind.)

He retreats to his car and I continue looking for my registration. Did you know we had the wheel bearings replaced in our car in 2008? Huh. I'd certainly forgotten. Oh and the oil change I just did? Well, I've got the receipt from that tail light they replaced, too. OOH! Registration! YES! *happy dance* 

I pull out the registration. And the insurance card.

From 2009. 

At this point, I realize I'm going to have 500 new reasons to hate this little town. Given the week I've had, it's safe to say this is where I come to the end of my rope and the tears I've been fighting all weekend start to bubble up. Using one of the McDonald's napkins I unearthed from the glove box, I start wiping my eyes. I prayed that even if he did give me the ticket that he wouldn't impound the car. They've been known to do that, after all. And I didn't know how I was going to wake my husband up to come get me because he turns his phone off when he goes to bed. I try not to panic as I wait for the cop to return to the car.

When he does, he sees me holding my registration.

Cop: Ahh, found it?

Me: Just the registration. I still can't find my insurance card. It's usually with my registration and I don't know what happened to it.

Cop: Hmm. That's not so good. I'm afraid we're going to have to impound the car and take you to jail.

Me: *in a high-pitched shrieky voice, all one word* OHMYGODAREYOUSERIOUS?!

Cop: Actually, I'm quite...*his smile spreads from ear to ear* ...not serious.

Me: *exploding into tears* 

Cop: Oh, ma'am! I'm so sorry! I was only joking. I'm sorry! 

Me: *still crying* *sob* You..*hic* have no *sob* idea how *sob* UNFUNNYTHATWAAAAAAAS! *sobbing*

Cop: I am SO very sorry, ma'am. It's just a warning. I swear. And I'm only giving you that much because we have to document all stops.

Me: *nodding and sniffling and completely mortified at this point, because again...I don't pull the girl card when it comes to traffic stops* 

Cop: I just need you to sign it here. *hands me the book*

Me: *nodding more as I sign it*

Cop: *tearing it off and handing it to me* This is pretty much just a souvenir at this point. You don't have to do anything with it.

Me: *sniffling* I'm sorry. I swear, I'm not one of those girls who cries to get out of a ticket. It's just been a reaaaaaaaaaally baaaad week. 

Cop: Again, ma'am. I'm so sorry. Usually, whenever I say that people know I'm joking.

Me: *trying to chuckle so he doesn't think I'm a complete lunatic* I'm sure if it were any other week I'd have found it hilarious. I've got a great sense of humor usually.

Cop: I can't apologize enough. Is there anything I can do for you? Do you have any questions?

Me: No. I mean, I just wanna get home. Am I okay to do that?

Cop: Yeah. You'll be fine. Just drive carefully, okay?

Me: Okay.

Cop: Again, I'm really sorry if I made your night worse.

Me: No. It's okay. Besides, this'll make really great blog fodder for later, when I've stopped crying. 

Cop: *chuckles because I don't think he realizes I was serious* Okay. Well, drive safely, ma'am.

Can I just tell you how very disgusted I am by my own lack of a sense of humor? Normally, I'd have fired back some flirty "Frisk me gently" come-back and we'd have both had a good chuckle and I've have been on my way. This only goes to show how very little funny I have left in me right now. I'm sure a month from now, this story will be fucking hilarious. Right now? It's just the cherry on my shit sundae.

Lessons learned: ALWAYS print off an extra insurance card before you leave town. ALWAYS go directly to a car repair shop and buy a new headlight the second you find yours is burned out. And ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS take the road that bypasses Cop City.

P.S. Thank you, Officer for not giving me 500 new reasons to hate your little town, which is otherwise lovely.

Everything happens for a reason

I've always been a firm believer in this motto.

I don't always expect to know what the reasons are, but I do believe everything that happens to us happens for a very specific reason.

In early January, I blogged about how the timing in moving to New York wasn't working out. I talked about it didn't mean I wouldn't get out there eventually, but that for now, the moment had passed me by. At the time, while I didn't know why it wasn't working out, I did decide to focus my energy on what I could do to get there.

Now, as I look a second surgery in the face in the coming weeks, I realize that I wasn't meant to be in New York right now because if I were, I'd be facing this alone. My husband and kids would be back here, as we'd planned to be "bi-coastal" for a while. My best friend, my family (immediate and extended) and other friends would all still be here in Iowa and I would be virtually alone in a new place where no one could help me recover from major surgery. I'd have friends in the city, of course, but nobody that didn't have work or family responsibilities and certainly no one to take care of me around the clock like I'll need that first week after my operation. 

God also seemed to know what He was doing when a job offer fell through for my bestie a few months ago. If she'd gotten that job, she wouldn't be able to help me get through this either. My husband and kids can help me in the evenings, of course, but during the day I would be alone without AM. Of course, it doesn't help her pocketbook to be unemployed right now, but I am so grateful to know she's available when I need her.

I try very hard not to question the "Why's" of things, though I know I sometimes do. I'm starting to realize if I just wait a little bit, God will reveal Himself to me little by little and things begin making sense.

If only I had that patience in other aspects of my life!

You don't like it? Change it!

Being as involved as I am with social networking, my timeline is frequently bombarded with people complaining about their lives.

I'm not talking the occasional bad day or crappy situation that has them down - it's a given that we've all been there. I'm talking about the constant "My life SUCKS!" "My family SUCKS!" "This job SUCKS!" "YOU can SUCK it!" attitude.

First off, let me make the disclaimer that I am, in no way, shape or form, trying to tell you that you can't complain about your life or vent about something shitty that happened. If that's what helps you feel better about it, then bitch away. Bitch all day, every day if it helps. But don't expect me to listen to it. You have the right to say what you want to say, but I also have the right not to listen to it. And I won't. If I unfollow you, it's not because I'm trying to control what you say, it's because I don't give a shit about hearing it. Again. Furthermore, if you think I'm bitching too much, I fully expect you to tune me out. I try not to be that person, but I'm realistic enough to know that there are times when I can be too much.

The majority of my cynicism, however, is for the purpose of being funny. To make people look at what I say and think "Huh. My life isn't so bad after all." Because honestly, kids? My life is fucking amazing. I have stupid shit that brings me down, but over all, I'm a happy girl who's been blessed with some incredible opportunities and I cherish those things. So when you see me say things like "Oh good, a Kardashian is here today," it's not because I'm upset about it. It's to set the foundation for material to joke about for weeks to come.

That's not the intention of the people I'm talking about today, though. Their intention is to bitch. Plain and simple. They hate their job, their boyfriend, their sister, their neighbor, their dog, their kids, their cable company, their airline....whoever the focus of their bitterness is that day.

And really, isn't that all it is - bitterness?

Honestly, if you're that unhappy about something, why don't you change it? Leave. Move. Break up. Stop talking to someone. Cut ties. Quit. Or...better yet....change your attitude. Your actions. Your behavior. Your mindset.

Three years ago when my marriage was in the shitter and my relationship with my kids was one of constant turmoil, I didn't continue bitching and complaining, I did something about it. I identified the problem and I fucking fixed it. I don't have any super powers. I don't possess some secret gift to fixing my life. I just saw what was wrong and I did something about it. You can too.

If you're unhappy, it's your own damn fault. You can try to blame others, but honestly, if you've got more than one shitty area of your life or it's been going on for more than a few weeks, chances are it's not someone else's issues - it's yours.

So fix it.

Until then, don't be surprised when I boot your negative ass from my timeline. I'm too busy enjoying the good life to listen to you whine about not having one.

The List

Many people have asked me what's on my bucket list and how I came up with the things on it. 

Dude.

There are over 300 items on the list and I continue to add to it. There are big things, small things, crazy things, normal things, things I'll have to be drunk to accomplish and things I'll have to save for total sobriety. I live my life out loud and use my own voice to do it, so when I see something fun or cool, I add it to the list. 

Take #244, for instance. It came about because someone in my Twitter timeline told me that most people from Boston don't take kindly to friendly "outsidahs." Psssh, I said. So I added "Hug a stranger in Boston" to my list.
 

(Still one of my favorite hugs of all time and I've had some pretty spectacular hugs.)

The complete list is as follows (but is constantly being added onto):

1. Get tickets to the Ellen DeGeneres show
2. Road trip from NY to CA
3. Try Yoga
4. Visit Key West
5. Adopt a Sphynx cat
6. Cry at the grave of someone I never knew
   
7. Have 1,000 Twitter followers
8. Sing the National Anthem at Fenway Park
9. Ride in a hot air balloon
10. Tweet 10,000 times
11. Read 1,000 books
12. Learn how to surf
13. Participate in a Color Run
14. See the Northern Lights
15. Get Mark Zuckerberg's business card
16. Own a typewriter
17. Get locked down with the Ghost Adventures crew (no longer applies)
18. Meet Clay Aiken
19. Hug Reba McEntire
20. Order off In-n-Out's secret menu 
21. Receive roses from a secret admirer
22. Plan my best friend's wedding
23. Paint my front door purple
24. Participate in a 3-day Walk for the Cure (no longer applies)
25. Get Lasik eye surgery (cannot physically do)
26. Learn how to knit
27. Have a book I've written be made into a movie
28. Get my pre-pregnancy body back
29. Shave my head for someone with cancer
30. Cook with Guy Fieri
31. Go to a Boston Celtics game
    
32. Go to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade
33. Bake perfect Christmas cookies
34. Swim naked in the ocean
35. Finish a "Wreck this Journal"
36. Get a "Breathe" tattoo
37. Do a NOH8 shoot
38. Own something from Tiffany and Co.
39. Find the perfect LBD
40. Tell them they saved my life
41. Be a healthy weight
42. Get rid of all the negativity in my life
43. Ice skate in Central Park
44. Have a song dedicated to me
45. Meet Ashton Kutcher
46. Make him love life again
47. Spend the night in a haunted mansion
48. Walk across the Brooklyn Bridge
49. 
    Autograph something
50. Have drinks with a celebrity
51. Be his bride
52. Meet Adam Levine
53. Pay a stranger's tab at a restaurant
54. Get a matching tattoo with my daughters
55. Spend an entire day watching Disney movies
56. Have my favorite author sign my book
57. Learn how to tie a cherry stem in a knot
58. Put together a family cookbook
59. Work for a magazine
60. Go on vacation by myself
    
61. Be in two places at once
62. Have abs
63. Be married to the same person for 50 years
64. Have a best friend who'll never let me down
65. Go parasailing
66. Ride a horse on the beach
67. Be the MOH
68. Visit the Titanic in a submarine
69. Try foods I wouldn't normally try
70. Go for a run in Central Park (cannot physically do)
71. Perform on Broadway
72. Ride first class
73. Be in a fashion show
74. Party all night without stopping to sleep
75. Get my nose pierced
76. Go on a cruise
77. Love him til I die
78. Go to at least one place I've never been before
79. Pet a fox
80. Star in a movie
81. Ride in a private plane
82. Ride in a helicopter
83. Take a carriage ride in Central Park
    
84. Visit the Hollywood Walk of Fame
85. Explore an abandoned amusement park
86. Open my own business
87. Watch the ball drop in Times Square
88. Invite someone without family to my holiday dinner
89. Go camping with all my friends
90. Go an entire day without using technology
91. Tan on a nude beach
92. Make a perfect Thanksgiving turkey
93. See my hip bones
94. Try Chicago-style pizza
95. Photograph a nude photoshoot
96. Complete a Man vs. Food challenge
97. Make my best friend's dream come true
98. Kiss on Bow Bridge in Central Park
99. Go on a family vacation
100. Stay at a Bed & Breakfast
101. Slow dance in the rain
102. Be able to walk well in high heels
103. Ride in an airplane
104. Be kissed unexpectedly
105. Buy flowers for someone for no reason
106. Feel confident in a bikini
107. Become a cheerleader
108. Get a boob job
109. Eat spaghetti in Italy
110. Visit the beach every day for a week
111. Take my kids on an amazing vacation
112. Write a novel during NaNoWriMo
113. Visit Niagara Falls
114. Live in an apartment in downtown Manhattan
115. Meet Adam Lambert
116. Visit the Full House home in San Francisco
117. Go on a road trip with friends
118. Visit the Mall of America
119. Go to prom
120. Be present during a birth
121. Chase a tornado
122. Take a homeless person to dinner
123. Make it in NY
124. Attach a lock to a love bridge
125. Go to a spa
126. Publish a best-selling novel
127. Run a marathon (cannot physically do)
128. Have my poem published
129. Dance with my kids in the rain
130. Dye my hair red
131. Go to Canada
132. See the Golden Gate Bridge
     
133. Pay for a stranger's groceries
134. Get a matching tattoo with my bestie
135. Meet my idol NKOTB
136. Travel alone
137. Personally thank a 9/11 firefighter
138. Have a beach wedding
139. Meet Kate Middleton
140. Overcome depression
141. See gay marriage legalized in the United States
142. Be on a billboard in Times Square
143. Write an article for the NY Times
144. Own a white kitten
145. Dye my hair pink
146. Meet Taylor Lautner
147. Have my daughter be "One Less Lonely Girl"  (no longer applies)
148. Meet Justin Bieber  (no longer applies)
149. See a Broadway play
150. Live to meet my grandchildren
151. Design my own dream house
152. Kiss at the top of a ferris wheel
153. Learn to play piano
154. Move to NYC or Boston (no longer applies)
155. 
     Learn sign language
156. Visit Ground Zero
157. Attend a gay wedding
158. Be on TV
159. Write a book
160. Swim with dolphins
     
161. Skydive (cannot physically do)
162. Visit Disneyland/World
163. Visit all 50 states
164. 
     Fall in love
165. Finish an entire coloring book
166. Be on the cover of a magazine
167. See a lantern festival
168. Visit a castle
169. Watch my children get married
170. Visit the Philippines with my bestie  (no longer applies)
171. Ride a subway in NYC
172. Try every flavor at Ben & Jerry's
173. Have a "usual" somewhere
174. Have a pet rabbit
175. Go to the airport and buy a ticket for some random flight
176. Go to Bora Bora or Fiji
177. Test drive a Ferrari
178. Write a letter to myself and open it in 10 years
179. Go on the Skydeck in Chicago
180. Ride the London Eye
181. Go on a road trip to Canada
182. Have a Christmas without any drama
183. Give a homeless person a Christmas present
184. Become a photographer
185. Have my 11:11 11/11/11 wish come true
186. Kiss in a snow storm
187. Chop down my own Christmas tree
188. Find and go on the largest roller coaster in the world
189. Go to a hot air balloon fest
190. Go to the Caribbean with my bestie
191. Be a homeowner
192. Be a good parent
193. Go on a no-budget shopping spree in Sephora
194. Get a white-ink tattoo
195. Walk through Central Park in the snow
196. 
     Swim with Beluga whales
197. Dance under the Eiffel Tower
198. Go to Rockefeller Plaza at Christmastime
199. Stop biting my nails
200. Kiss at the top of the Empire State Building
201. Go to an NFL game
202. Party on a cruise ship
203. Attend a midnight movie premiere
204. Walk a red carpet
205. Swim with a sea turtle
206. Celebrate Mardi Gras in New Orleans
207. Go snowtubing
208. See the Rockettes
209. Do a boudoir sitting
210. Take a family trip to Colorado
211. Visit Boston
212. Have a conversation with my favorite actor
213. Visit Martha's Vineyard
214. See NKOTB's childhood homes
215. Meet Ellen Degeneres
216. 
     Go ziplining
217. Write a screen play
218. Learn to ski (water or snow)
219. See Prince in concert (RIP, Prince)
220. Buy a bicycle and ride it regularly
221. Walk a 5k
222. See Madonna live (no longer applies)
223. Join a critique group
224. Do RAGBRAI (Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa) (no longer applies)
225. Go on a long-overdue honeymoon
226. Visit Yellowstone
227. Spend a weekend in an isolated cabin
228. Have my portrait painted
229. Drive up the Pacific Coast highway
230. Visit the Smithsonian
231. Nap in a hammock by the ocean
232. Get back to my high school weight
233. Visit Los Angeles
234. Meet Janet Evanovich 
     
235. Redecorate my bedroom
236. Put my feet in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans
237. Have one of my photos displayed publicly
238. Meet Shemar Moore
239. Kiss someone famous
240. Go to a game at Yankee Stadium or Fenway Park
241. Go paragliding
242. Eat at Ellen's Stardust Diner
243. Learn how to ballroom dance (especially the quickstep)
244. Hug a stranger in Boston
245. Get at least 5 stamps in my passport
246. Move to New England
247. Kiss on Lagoon Bridge in Boston
248. Spend a weekend in Cape Cod
249. Do a tequila shot with Michael Cudlitz
250. See all the NKOTB homes today
251. Witness Fleet Week 
252. Go SCUBA diving
253. Hold a hummingbird 
254. Visit the Pollock-Krasner House & Studio 
255. Go a week without using my phone
256. Spend a day holding a "FREE HUGS" sign
257. Get every member of Midnight Red to follow me on Twitter
258. Star in a local theatrical production
259. Going line dancing for old time's sake
260. See a Pink Floyd laser light show
261. 
     Ride in a glass bottom boat
262. Dance with Zac Efron
263. Photograph an Atlantic sunrise
264. Photograph a Pacific sunset
265. See P!nk in concert.
266. Have wings at the Anchor Bar in Buffalo.
267. Have my book published.
268. Meet Bret Michaels.
     
269. Dance in the rain in the mountains. 
270. Visit Lake Nipissing 
271. Go camping in the mountains 
272. Move to Colorado
273. Restore someone's faith in humanity
274. Get a Brazilian wax 
275. Learn to ice skate
276. Discuss screenwriting with Frank John Hughes 
277. Visit an elephant sanctuary
278. Take a ride on a motorcycle up the PCH
279. Visit the 9/11 Museum
280. Visit the OKC Bombing Memorial
281. Drive a Corvette
282. See Jimmy Fallon Live
283. Publish my "Time After Time" series
284. Appear on "Jeopardy"
285. Have front row seats for a NKOTB show
     
286. See Janet Jackson in concert
287. Try raw oysters
288. Ride a trolley in San Francisco
289. Go to a drive-in movie
290. Meet Judy Blume
291. Ride the ferris wheel at Navy Pier
292. Ride the Wonder Wheel at Coney Island
293. Take a train ride on Amtrak
294. Get a semi colon tattoo
295. Stay at the Hoshi Ryoku Hotel in Japan
296. Have my mom's wedding rings redesigned
297. Get a henna tattoo
298. Visit the "Dirty Dancing" resort in VA (Mountain Lake)
299. Go snowmobiling
300. Scrapbook all my childhood MN vacations
301. Get courtside seats for a Celtics game
302. Tell my freshman English teacher what an inspiration she was to me
303. Visit Graceland
304. Visit Paisley Place
305. Visit the Country Music Hall of Fame
306. Witness Manhattanhenge
307. Go tubing in Kauai
308. See a real southern plantation
     
309. Visit Margaret Mitchell's grave
310. Visit Margaret Mitchell's home
311. Meet my sisters
312. Learn how to crochet
313. Visit the grave of Princess Diana 
314. Visit the Salem Witch House/House of Seven Gables
315. Meet Harry Styles
316. Visit Stonehenge
317. Go to an ashram in Bali
318. Start a non-profit for kids from widowed and divorced families.
319. Explore Mali
320. Write the screenplay for "Time After Time"
321. Volunteer in my community
322. Go on a cooking tour of Italy
323. Tour St. Petersburg, Russia
324. Write my autobiography
325. Visit Scotland, and the Callanish Stones
326. Visit the founding Thirteen Colonies
327. 
     Visit the monuments and landmarks of Washington, D.C.
328. Tour the Ben & Jerry's factory
329. Spend Christmas in a cabin
330. See Queen in concert
331. Get a new stamp in my passport yearly
332. Go kayaking
333. Cook with Trisha Yearwood
334. Become more goal-oriented
335. Declutter all the rooms in the house
336. Recognize/identify unhealthy habits
337. Write the story of my family with pics
338. Start my spiritual gifts/healing business
339. Visit the Denver Gem Show
340. See Chippendales
341. Go sailing
342. Pose with the "Bewitched" statue
     
343. Visit the Salem cemetery
344. Read Nathanial Hawthorne's work
345. Stay in Jon Knight's guest house
346. Assist Patrick on tour with NKOTB
347. Watch a Red Sox game at a Boston bar
     
348. Get a NKOTB-themed tattoo
349. Go to the Neon Graveyard
350. Visit the Grand Canyon
351. See the Goldfield Hotel
352. Visit Four Corners & be in 4 places at once.
353. Move to Austin, Texas (no longer applies)
354. See Phantom of the Opera on Broadway
355. Visit Starbucks Reserve at the Empire State Building
356. See The Music Man on Broadway
357. See The Drew Barrymore show
358. Meet Keanu Reeves
359. Join a gym
360. Read my 2023 12-book challenge
361. Share my mental health journey with NAMI
362. Organize my Kindle books into manageable categories
363. Follow through with my New Year's resolutions one year
364. Learn how to meditate
365. Meet Kelly Clarkson
366. See REO Speedwagon in concert
     
367. Visit Salem in October

My list is long and the likelihood of my actually completing everything on it is not very high, but the way I see it, if I keep trying to do these fun things, then my life will always have a purpose, even if it's to do something silly. I'll never be the person who cures cancer or gives peace to the Middle East, but I do intend to bring a smile to the face of every person I meet, and if that's my greatest accomplishment in life, I'm okay with that. 

Now...what's on your list?

(updated 12/31/2025)

What are you waiting for?

Most of you know how much of a Pinterest junkie I am and have probably seen my bucket list board. It contains things I've already accomplished as well as the things still left to be done before I die. I realized the other day, as I thought over the last two months and the shit my crazy life has slung me lately, that these things on my bucket list aren't going to do themselves.

I may live another 40 years or I may die tomorrow. I don't have any way of knowing when my time is coming, so the only thing I'm accomplishing by procrastinating my bucket list is...well, procrastinating my bucket list. And there's some fun stuff on there!

So here's the thing. Each month, for the rest of the year, I'm going to do something on my list.

Let's see how many I accomplish!

UPDATE:
March
211. Visit Boston. We flew into Boston on March 29th and stayed til April 2nd.
214. Visit NKOTB's childhood homes. Becky took us on a brief tour in Dorchester on 3/30/12
244. Hug a stranger (in Boston). 3/30/12 Random guy on Commonwealth Ave who gladly hugged me.

April
1. Get tickets to the Ellen show April 10
31. Go to a Celtics game. 4/1/12 vs. Miami Heat. Celtics won 91 to 72.
84. Visit the Hollywood Walk of Fame. April 11
97. Make my best friend's dream come true. Ann Marie wanted to be Jordan's "Rockstar" in Boston. So, using my cell phone as a makeshift strobe/spotlight, I got Victor & Charlie's attention and they pulled her up on stage for Rockstar.  
104. Be kissed unexpectedly. 4/9/12 Somebody who I never even pictured having the time to read my blogs (especially the one with my long-ass bucket list) DID read my blog and planted a kiss on me that blew my mind. Nothing pornographic, mind you -- just completely unexpected. It was the perfect surprise kiss.
229. Drive along the Pacific Coast Highway. April 8, 2012 with Ann Marie and Rissa.
233. Visit L.A. April 8 to see Sherri on Dancing with the Stars (and SO much more!) 

May
(I was a little busy in May with my surgery)


June 
40. Tell them they saved my life. June 7, 2012 He didn't believe me. There will have to be further explanation. UPDATE: There was further explanation. He gets it now.
261. Ride in a glass-bottom boat. June 8, 2012 Half Moon Cay, Bahamas

July/August/September/October
(I was busy trying to beat depression.)

November
3. Try yoga. November 8, 2012

December
92. Make a perfect Thanksgiving Turkey. December 2012 - Okay, so technically, it wasn't Thanksgiving, but the bird was pretty incredible!

Sometimes you just can't...

I have a lot of family members. Just on my mother's side alone, I have two siblings, four nieces/nephews, two niece-in-laws (and one-to-be), two great-nephews, three aunts, five cousins (plus their spouses...and their kids). Add in my father's sides (yes, I have two dads) and we're talking over a hundred relatives, easily. I am usually thankful that we don't all live in the same place because planning family events with everyone would be virtually impossible.

For me, I've always tried to stay neutral when there are disagreements among family members. That doesn't mean if somebody acts like an idiot I don't call them out. I do. Any of my relatives will tell you they've been on the receiving end of a Melanie-chew-out at least once. Some people don't understand my reasons for trying to stay neutral. That's easy: it's what my mom would've done. She'd have said her peace, of course, but in the end she would've loved both parties equally. It what she did and it's what she taught me.

I am not my mother, however. And the longer I deal with the idiotic choices of some of my family members, the more I realize how VERY unlike my mother I really am.

I have come to terms recently with just how short life really is. In the blink of an eye, it can completely change course. You can go to the doctor with what looks like a boil and come out with an appointment with an oncologist. That's some scary shit right there. If you've never looked your own mortality in the face, I suggest giving it a try. It'll change your way of thinking.

Because of my own recent glimpse at my mortality, I'm done being neutral. I'm done trying to find the good in people who, for the most part, have very little good left to show the world -- whose every action exhibits hate and bitterness instead of the forgiveness and understanding they claim to have. Now don't get me wrong; I love my family unconditionally. But that doesn't mean I won't eliminate my contact with them if they bring toxicity to my life. 

I can be quoted as telling a family member a couple weeks ago, "I won't choose sides, but if you force me to, you won't like what side is chosen." They tested me. They're finding out the hard way.

I love my family, but sometimes I just can't have them in my life.

I'll never be...

Much to the chagrin of my friend Todd, I'll never be one of those trendy women who know exactly what to wear and wear only the best designers. 

I'll always shop at Target and my purses will be knock-offs. Not because I want to look like I'm trendy, but because I like the style of whatever bag I'm carrying. My shoes will never be Choo or Louboutin. Although, if there's a cheaper replica of a style I like, I may buy it. Not saying I won't ever own something designer, but if I do, it'll be because it makes me look good, not because it's expensive.

I'm usually a step behind when it comes to the latest book or movie. I didn't read the Twilight series until after I saw the movie. I didn't read The Help until it was in theaters. I still read the book first, mind you but it was months after it became THE book to read. 

I was never one of those girls in school who had to have a Guess label on my ass or a Keds label on my foot. In fact, I remember being teased mercilessly about my "generic" style in school. It was miserable. But I never folded. 

I'm the woman who will happily boast about catching a good sale rather than bragging about a $700 handbag I paid full price for. (Mainly because I will NEVER pay $700 for a purse.) I'm not afraid to use coupons or wait in line for an early bird special. I don't consider myself cheap, just thrifty.

As a writer, I'm always nervous about my storylines being original enough. I once asked an author acquaintance of mine "How do you come up with such authentic storylines that haven't already been written?" She told me that every storyline has already been written. You just have to add new characters, twists and original touches to them to make them your own. So even what I write about will always be second-hand.

My furniture is, too. Second-hand, that is. And that's okay. I don't want leather sofas or high-end tables people don't feel comfortable using. My carpets are worn, as are my linoleum floors (that's right kids...not tile...linoleum). I take great pride in the fact that the flooring I used when remodeling my bathroom cost me $8. Not for each piece...the WHOLE floor.

I'll never be someone who demands the best money can buy - not because I can't afford it, but because I'd rather spend my money on other things I enjoy. I want to spend it on my family...my friends....traveling to new places...surprising loved ones with things that mean something to them. I may never own a Coach bag, but if I were to find out my bestie wanted one, I'd make it happen. 

I'm original. I'm me. I don't make apologies for my snagged rugs or the water rings on my coffee table. My house will probably always smell faintly of cats or dogs...and probably burnt popcorn. It's who I am, kids. I'll always be this way. 

I may make it big one day but when I do, you can bet I'll still be wearing my Danskin sweats and that t-shirt I own that says "Mess with me, mess with the whole trailer park." It's who I am.

I don't need a designer label to determine my worth. My friends do that.

** Let me make clear that I'm not judging those who want designer things or buy $700 purses. If that's what makes you happy, then by all means, do it. All I'm saying is that it's not me. :)

I can't remember.

• 35-47-17
• 685-2810
• "When I'm With You" by Sheriff
• August 13, 1987
• Dilaudid, Darvocet and Dolophine
• Kramer's Resort
• February 5, 1940, June 22, 1938
• "There's a time you got to go and show you're growin' now. you know about the facts of life, the facts of life."
• Michael Jackson, Thriller
• Grease, River Hills Theater
• Olives, wine and textiles
• Uncle Jack's tacos
• Brown leather with a three-inch platform heel and a Happy Days t-shirt 
• By looping a piece of rope around his fingers and tossing the end of it out a car window

These things probably don't mean a damn thing to you, but these are just a few of the random pieces of information I have floating around in my head. My best friends will tell you that I can remember details as if events happened yesterday. I pride myself on my memory. When people need witnesses for important events, they call me.

Since my surgery, my short-term memory has taken a few pings. Not huge ones, mind you; I could remember the random shit above, after all. But I'm starting to forget the names of everyday things. Like the other day I couldn't remember what waxed paper was called.

Waxed paper, for God's sake. I was holding the box in my hand. IN MY HAND! and couldn't think to look down at the box to figure out what the name of it was. Who does that?

Yet tonight, I sat here watching "It Could Happen to You" on tv and recited Nicholas Cage's line about getting leprosy from the water when he roller-blades into the lake in Central Park.

Two days ago, I forgot the name of that yellow creamy stuff you put on toast but remembered that I needed ¼ c of it to put in the macaroni with the orange powder that comes in the blue box. Tonight, I recited a recipe for my garlic Parmesan salad dressing without missing a single ingredient - except I couldn't remember what the white dressing was called that Hidden Valley makes.

The other day, the cable company asked me for my zip code. I drew a complete blank. (Then, of course, I panicked, thinking the woman on the phone would think I was somebody posing as me trying to hack into my account, which just made it that much worse.) But I could remember the last four digits of my social security number without an issue.

Hubs and my friends tell me I'm being too hard on myself...that this isn't a big deal. That I'll relax and get back to my old self in no time.

But to me, it is a big deal. And what if I don't get back to my old self? What if I have to carry around a notepad for the rest of my life with my own damn phone number written on it because I can't remember it? I'll be at the grocery store trying to buy food for my family and forget which debit card has the grocery budget on it...then struggle to remember the pin when I do figure out which one to use.

I hold myself to a very high standard and I know that. The thing is, up til now, I've been able to meet (and exceed) that standard. I've forgotten things now and then like everybody, but when it comes to remembering to pay the water bill or mailing a birthday card on time? I don't forget those things. EVER. This month I forgot them both. I pray the problem doesn't persist and it's just a side effect of all the damn pain pills I've had to ingest over the last month like my husband thinks is to blame. But knowing that memory loss is a side effect of an oophorectomy, I'm not overly-optimistic. (I'm also not WebMD'ing my ass into an asylum yet either, so relax. I'm just trying to stay realistic.)

Until then, please just bear with me when I ask what seem like really stupid questions. I promise I've been paying attention. I just don't recall at this point in time where I put my memory.

==================================================

The things above, by the way, are:

• 35-47-17 : my 7th grade locker combination
• 685-2810 : my first phone number
• "When I'm With You" by Sheriff : the song I danced to with Dusty Smith at a school dance (December 10th, 1988, btw)
• August 13, 1987 : the date of my first period (*Overshare, I know)
• Dilaudid, Darvocet and Dolophine : the cocktail of medication my mother took on a daily basis when she was battling cancer from 1987-1990
• Kramer's Resort : The place we always went to on family vacations when I was growing up
• February 5, 1940, June 22, 1938 : My parents' birthdays
• "There's a time you got to go and show you're growin' now. you know about the facts of life, the facts of life." : the lyrics to the theme of one of my favorite childhood TV shows
• Michael Jackson, Thriller : The first "grown-up" album I ever bought
• Grease, River Hills Theater : The first movie I saw in a theater. (And have seen no less than 400 times since then.)
• Olives, wine and textiles : The main exports of Portugal. This was on a 4th grade social studies test that I studied my ass off for (and only got a C+, I might add.)
• Uncle Jack's tacos : The restaurant I ran to in the food court at Southridge Mall where my mother was standing in 1979 when a janitor walked close to me and I panicked and thought he was there to kidnap me. (He wasn't. He did, however, throw my food away. Bastard.)
• Brown leather with a three-inch platform heel and a Happy Days t-shirt : What I was wearing Easter Sunday in 1976 when I tripped and fell on the sidewalk and skinned my nose. (The t-shirt was mine. The heels were my sister's.)
• By looping a piece of rope around his fingers and tossing the end of it out a car window : How Ricky Schroder nearly got his fingers amputated as a kid

Too little, too late, M'com

It's always amusing to me how much a company will kiss your ass when you call to disconnect services. 

Back in January, a promotion that our cable company offered us came to an end, which meant our $95 cable/internet package would be jumping to almost $200 a month. That's not something I care to pay, so we called to see what other promotions were available. We were told that we could keep our current package (basic and expanded digital cable, On-Demand services, all 5 premium stations and our 12 meg internet) for $166/mo but that we'd need to enter a two-year contract to get that price. I told them to forget it. We'd be shopping around and let them know when they could come disconnect.

There were no thanks from M'com for our patronage...no apologies for not being able to find a suitable package that worked for our budget. Nothing. Just a "Thank you for calling M'com. Have a nice day." (Which, I suppose is better than nothing, but still.)

So we called the two major dish companies to find out rates and bundles for what we were looking for. One of them couldn't offer us anything better than what we had and since we live in the sticks, they couldn't even offer us internet. That wasn't gonna work. Me without internet? They might as well take water and oxygen, too. C'mon, people. The second satellite company was able to get us a great package AND found an internet company who was able to get us hooked up for about $50 a month. It wasn't the greatest price, but it was better than nothing. So we signed up and I called M'com back to let them know that we'd found someone willing to work in our price range -- ultimately giving them a chance to keep me as a customer by meeting the prices I'd been quoted by the other companies.

They failed.

So we continued with the installation with the satellite company and we love it. LOVE. IT. The bundle they'd arranged with the other internet company, however, was a fail, so we canceled our bundle with them. We're keeping M'com for our internet, which is fine. We haven't had too bad a luck with them in that respect and after we talked to the other internet company, their price was competitive anyway, so instead of dealing with the hassle of switching, we just stayed with M'com.

We wanted to make sure the satellite would work well for us before we canceled our cable, so we've had it for a couple weeks now and I called M'com today to disconnect our cable. I spoke with a girl named Katie. She was very sweet, very professional and when I asked to terminate our cable service, like any good customer service agent, she asked me why. I told her. She asked if she could tell me the promotions that M'com was currently offering that I qualified for.

I was polite, but told her that it was pointless and explained why.

She was appalled, reiterating over and over that customer service like that was not how they were trained and she was very disappointed that I wasn't treated better. She said she understood why I wouldn't want to continue cable service with them and apologized for the last person's behavior toward me. It was refreshing, actually. She took care of the disconnect stuff and reminded me that my internet price had been part of a bundle and without that bundle the price, would unfortunately increase by $15/mo. She was apologetic about it, which again, was nice. She then offered me a promotion for 2 years of internet at a deeply discounted rate if I entered into a contract. 

Gee, lemme think about that. I can either pay you $80/mo for internet or I can pay you $40? Hmm. This is a toughie.

YES, please!?

So, long story short, we're getting what we want at a fraction of the price. Buh-bye, M'com.

This is not okay.

Have you seen this yet?

Go ahead. Click the link. I'll wait.

That's only twenty-five reactions that were captured on Twitter during the Grammy's. If there were 25, there were probably 250. 2,500. 25,000? Even one is too many.

Really, ladies? You'd let Chris Brown do THIS to you??

Ladies, ladies, ladies.

I'm honestly not even sure where to begin with this because I don't know when you began believing that physical abuse is an acceptable form of affection.

Were you abused as a child? Did you witness it? Did you see your mother get hit?

These are my parents. They look happy, don't they? My mother loved my father til the day she died.

Despite his alcoholism and physical abuse.

I was only six months old when she kicked him out of our home and told him to never come back. He didn't. I spent many years being upset with my mother because I never got the chance to know my father. I am an adult and I realize that my father as a whole was not the abuse he administered, but it was a large part of my family's history. She protected me by asking him to leave. I don't know what he could have done....would have done, if given the chance. She also protected me by never falling prey to an abusive man again.

I, too, was in an emotionally abusive relationship. There were two instances when he got physical with me. One involved a car and a barely-frozen lake. The other involved his hands. Both instances shook me to my core.

Do I seem like a victim to you? Do I seem like a person who would put up with anyone's crap?

Well, I was. I'm not saying I didn't say things and do things that pissed him off. I most definitely did. But even in all of the backtalk and arguing I handed him, NEVER did I deserve to be hit. Nobody does.

Ever.

Hitting is NOT okay. Namecalling is NOT okay. Backhanded compliments are NOT okay. Punching the hell out of your girlfriend because she called you out for being a cheating piece of shit is NOT okay!

This? is NOT okay.

My best friend spent fifteen years with a man who verbally beat her down, insulted her appearance, intelligence, talent and spirit every chance he got. When he decided to get stupid one night and take things a little too far, she called the cops and they escorted him out of their home. She's one of the lucky ones. Her mother wasn't so lucky. Her mother was beaten, raped and murdered by her abusive boyfriend.

Do I need to say it again?

This is NOT okay! EVER!

Ladies, the only way you can have any ounce of self-respect (or teach your daughters how to have some) is to refuse to be treated badly. Don't stand for behavior that doesn't make you feel good about yourself or about him. If you cry more than you smile, GET OUT.

Because this? 

is not okay.

Silver Spoons and heartfelt croons

The first time I ever heard her pipes I was nine years old and watching my heart throb, Ricky Schroder on "Silver Spoons." She played herself and was Dexter's love interest for an episode. She belted out "Saving All My Love For You" and won my heart over. Obviously, Whitney Houston did far more than a walk-on in a Saturday night sitcom, but that's where she got her start in my life.

I remember belting out "Greatest Love of All" into my Tickle deodorant bottle in my bedroom. Door shut, tape deck cranked, I sang every note (badly, I might add) at the top of my lungs. I'm certain my mother hated Whitney. But I loved her.

She gave me a song for every turning point in my life. "Greatest Love of All" was played at our assembly the last day of 6th grade. "I Wanna Dance with Somebody" peppered the skating rink speakers every Friday and Saturday night through my junior high years. The year after my mom died, she set a new precedent with her rendition of the Star Spangled Banner. When my high school boyfriend and I broke up in early 1993, "I Will Always Love You" got me through many a sleepless night. In 1999, when I went through my divorce "It's Not Right," came out.

While I'm not sobbing with an ugly cry like I did for Michael Jackson two and a half years ago, I am grieving the loss of such an influential woman. Her music encouraged many, her struggles with addiction and domestic abuse touched a chord with some but her perseverance was inspiring.

I pray for her family and the friends she left behind. May she find the peace in her death she was unable to find throughout her life.

Rest in peace, Whitney.

In sickness and in health

Today is my twelfth wedding anniversary.

A dozen years ago, I stood in my brother's living room with our pastor and twenty of our closest friends and family members and vowed to love this man for the rest of my life. The service was brief and to the point, but like every other ceremony I've ever seen, there was the promise about cleaving to each other in sickness and in health.

In the grand scheme of things, that in sickness and health thing has been pretty easy-going. Sure, we've gotten the flu from time to time and while neither one of us is a "hair-holder," so to speak, we do make sure our spouse has everything he or she needs to get better. Although, if we were keeping score, my husband has definitely gotten the short end of the stick. Since we got married in 2000, I've been hospitalized at least three times. I've found lumps in my breasts, torn muscles, sprained joints and had reproductive issues that have left me bed-ridden, sometimes for weeks on end. 

Overall, I consider myself pretty healthy, so really these times have been minimal, but when the words "in sickness and in health" are truly put to the test, I am so fortunate to know that my husband will be here through it all. And what a trooper he is. With me, it's never as simple as just being sick. I'm a control freak, so with sickness along comes mood swings, impatience, stubbornness and impertinence. I don't do "dependent" well, but like a God-sent miracle, my hubby puts up with all of it. 

I'm getting better about it, though. He made homemade chili tonight for supper. Not once did I get off the couch to "help." In fact, I didn't even offer suggestions from the couch unless he asked for them. And it was delicious. Did it taste like mine? Not exactly, but that's okay. I let it go. I ate it and enjoyed it and spent my time being grateful for having someone to take care of me. He's taken such good care of me this week. He brought me doughnuts yesterday because he knew I was craving sweets. Today, he brought me an array of candy that he thought I might enjoy. He has waited on me hand and foot since I came home from the hospital Thursday. 

Normally, I'm someone who wants privacy in the bathroom (I don't pee with the door open and don't want anyone else to do it either), but God bless him, he's stood right there with me, handing me whatever I may need and helping pull me up when I lacked the abdominal muscles to get up myself. He's helped me change dressing on my incisions and has rubbed lotion on my back and feet because they're so dry. He's made ten back-to-back trips to the kitchen & bathroom when I've asked for more ice water...then a bowl of soup...then a Coke...then more pain pills...then to take my bowl back to the kitchen...then the ice bag. He's lifted and held me in place while I adjust pillows and cushions in what I'm sure has been painstaking fashion for him. He's had sleepless nights because I've cried out in my sleep, waking him up from his. He's put up with my rants about crappy nursing staff and the pity parties where I begin feeling sorry for myself. 

My husband and I have hit rock bottom and we've seen the view from the top. I know I take him for granted far more often than he deserves, but I don't know what I'd do without him. I'm so thankful for his unconditional love and his full understanding of what "in sickness and health" truly means. I pray that we never have anything more taxing than what we've dealt with so far, but I know if we do, he'll be there without question.

I love you, baby. Happy anniversary.

Little Monsters

WARNING: Medically graphic post and probably one that risks an overshare or two. Proceed at your own risk.

I wish this post was talking about the term Lady Gaga uses when referring to her fans, but in this case, it's referring to the monstrous tumor the doctors found in my abdomen yesterday.

I awoke yesterday morning to severe cramps that I thought were menstrual in nature. I had an endometrial ablasion almost six years ago, so I don't have periods any more, but I do, from time to time, get cramps, breast swelling and migraines. So, over the last few weeks when I've had increased cramping, I didn't think anything of it. I figured it was just PMS-related, took a couple of Tylenol and went on with my day. Yesterday, however, was quite different from the cramps I'm used to having. 

I thought perhaps it was bowel related and once I went to the bathroom I'd be fine. I did, but I wasn't fine. If anything, the pain had gotten worse. Now, I'll be the first to admit I'm a pain baby, but rarely do I cry from pain. The cramps I experienced yesterday morning had me doubled-over sobbing. 

I called my friend Wendy, who's also a nurse, and she suggested that if this wasn't normal cramping that I needed to go to the emergency room. So after a quick call to my bestie, she came and picked me up. That forty minute drive to the emergency room was almost too much. The cramps got worse and by the time we pulled up in front of the ER, I had all I could do to walk into the hospital.

My hubby joined Ann Marie and me a few minutes after I got settled into a room and I spent the next several hours being poked, prodded and scanned. My fear was that it was a blood clot due to all the sitting I'd been doing on the plane and in the airports last week, but the doctor quickly dismissed that fear. He first thought I had kidney stones and sent me down for a CT scan to find out for sure. This initial diagnosis scared me immensely. The pain involved with passing a kidney stone aside, I have plans for these kidneys and nowhere in the scheme of those plans was there room for stones. I had a small meltdown and was proverbially bitchslapped from my bestie for worrying about her kidneys instead of myself. I digress. Fortunately, the results from the CT scan came back and my fears were put to rest for the time being.

Then the doctor mentioned something called a teratoma that showed up on my right ovary and coming from a family who has been stricken with numerous types of cancer, I recognized the term -toma immediately. The nurse reassured me that it didn't necessarily mean cancer, that it was more like a cyst. Having known numerous people with ovarian cysts, I wasn't over worried; cysts are pretty common, after all. The doctor then told me that according to the scan, the cyst was 7cm x 7cm. Metric conversions aren't my forté, but I knew that was about 3 inches. In that area of the body, that's a good sized cyst. The doctor told me that he'd consulted with a gynecologist who was on his way over to look at my scan and discuss the findings. 

When the gyno got there, he confirmed the doctor's diagnosis that it was a ovarian teratoma. He said it was a medium sized cyst that would need to come out, but that it wasn't emergent and unless I wanted to do the procedure today, it could wait a week or two. I expressed my concern about it being cancer, but the doctor reassured me that the chances of it being cancer were less than five percent. This eased my worries a little, but by this point, I was mad at whatever had caused me this pain and I just wanted it out. The gyno understood and explained the procedure would be done laparoscopically and that depending on how involved it was with my right ovary, it too may need to be removed. Given that I had my tubes tied almost fifteen years ago, I didn't care if my lady parts stayed or went. I signed paperwork, the doctor got on the phone with surgery and within an hour, I was being prepped.

By 7 p.m. I was in recovery and the nurses were reminding me to breathe deeply (always a problem for me). Typically, this surgery is done out-patient but because I was having a good deal of pain and one of the incision sites was having some trouble with seepage, they decided to admit me overnight. I spent the night on a Fentanyl pump and the doctor came in to talk to me this morning. 

I had a lot of questions for him because he was gone by the time I came out from under the anesthesia and Hubs isn't the detail-oriented person I am, he didn't ask the questions I would have. I wanted to know if they had to take my ovary, first of all (they did). As an information whore, it was also important to me to know exactly what this thing was called (dermoid teratoma - I'll let you Google that little bit of nastiness on your own). I also wanted to know if there was any way this could've been an ectopic pregnancy gone horribly awry (it wasn't). I wanted to know if there was a chance of it coming back on the other side (there is). I wanted to make sure my tubes were still "tied" (they are). I wanted to know what my recovery period is (two weeks). Most of all, I wanted to know if it is cancerous (doc says no, the biopsy should confirm this). Long story short, this cyst is the most disgusting thing you could possibly imagine but it has been removed. 

(The white and dark colored tissue you see here in the photos

is the cyst that wrapped around my right ovary.)

The doctor said that it was a bit larger than they first thought, explaining that the ovaries are typically the size of an almond and my cyst was the size of an orange and filled with fluid, hair and other organ-type tissues. I was totally grossed out, but he reassured me that this is normal because apparently ovarian tissues are complex in that they draw cells from all parts of the body - hair follicles, sweat glands, bones, teeth, organs like liver and kidneys, etc.This cyst, because it grew from the ovarian cells, also includes many of these cells. Hubs called it an alien and honestly? that's what it feels like this is: some sort of hairy little alien. It's been sent off to pathology and I should know shortly for certain that it's not a malignant tumor. Granted, the doctor has already given his expert opinion and that it's not cancer. But I'm someone who needs proof, so I will wait patiently (ha!) for the results to set my mind at ease.

Until then, I am forced to take it easy and recognize how fortunate I am in all this. If this had happened last week, my family would be frantic here at home while I was recovering at a friend's place in Harlem. My bestie, thankfully, is unemployed right now and was able to drop everything and not only take me to the hospital, but was able to stay with me all day to put my worried mind at ease. Hubs, too, was not only able to take off work and come to the hospital, his bosses had FMLA paperwork drawn up so he can take off the rest of the week to spend with me so I'm not alone. My friend RG came up and tagged in for Ann Marie and Hubs so they could get something to eat (since they hadn't eaten all day) and stayed with me. As it often does, our conversation helped me make sense of the day and the perspective I needed desperately. Even my ex-husband and his mother were there for me. They picked up Midget so she wasn't here alone and scared after school last night. They drove her to school this morning, too, so she wouldn't miss her presentation for National History Day. 

Tonight, Midget and I had the "What if it's cancer?" talk and I think we both feel infinitely better. Since Hubs can be a bit of a tosser and a turner, I decided to sleep on the couch tonight. It's also easier for me to get up and down out here, so this is where I'll sleep. Midget, who is afraid I may need her in the middle of the night, is also camped out here with me. She's asleep on the bean bag and I'm on the sofa.

Even in this narcotic haze, I can appreciate God in all this. His timing is impeccable and He has surrounded me with love. I am so blessed.

**UPDATE** The pathology reports indicate the tumor is benign. It is not cancerous.