Am I Dreaming? Am I Dead?

I started this post March 1st.

I wrote this:

"The month of the hubby's birthday and when spring kicks winter to the curb (just let me have my dream there, okay?). Although how much of a dream is it really when I have photographic proof from Mother Nature.

Don't dare say Nature is a moron either. She knows sh*t. She is never wrong! All powerful Nature!

Stupid flowers."

I was going to then show you a photo of my daffodils and crocuses. To be shot in the sunshine during one of the 70 degree days. They were all green shoots, four or more inches above ground, MARCH 1ST.

Which they still are, technically on this March 14th. Only taller.

Daffodils around the mailbox.

Daffodils in the front of the house.

And for the finale, crocuses.

I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.

I took Mav for a walk yesterday in Fitflops and a Rams tee shirt. For the record, also pants. Just wanted to make sure that was clear. Anyway, one person had full blown blooming yellow daffodils right down the street. Three streets over, a yard full of purple flowering crocuses.

Today, I woke up to heavy, wet snow.

I wondered if I was dreaming

Or dead.

Heaven or hell looks a lot like my life had looked.

Only with majorly messed up weather.

What a March. I mean, really. I'm not complaining. Just amazed by it all. I have nothing to complain about. All the tragedies weather-wise are across the globe. So none of this is complaining. Just statement of facts. I have nothing to complain about. No earthquake here. No wave of water taking away everything. I just feel like Artie. I want to stay in my heated bed with the clicker.

Artemis the Hunter, hunting down good decisions.

The hubby and I haven't had any dating. We're really rocking this 2011.

Sigh.

Thank God for Red Dead Redemption and (yawn) European soccer. Saving my butt. Keeping the husband occupied and providing him with much needed stress relief since I'm still recuperating from my stupid biopsy. Yesterday was the first day I went out. I went to the grocery store. It was less than thrilling. Easter candy was out, so it was worth it, but still.

Why does my body hate me? It's always all "I kill you!" even though I give it all the Dilly Bars it wants and let it sleep in until noon on a consistent basis.

It wants to watch a Pawn Stars marathon and eat 12 sugar free popsicles? Done!

It wants to do as little laundry as is humanely possible and take 4 baths a day? Done!

It wants to make shrimp dip, then eat all the shrimp dip, then throw up all the shrimp dip and watch my entire body turn purple, all while watching a Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler movie that is more painful to live through than all the vomiting and color changing. DONE AND DONE!

You know how sometimes you have something medical done and then you're all, "That was no big deal!" and "That incision is way smaller than I thought it would be!" and "Wow, that is healing so much faster than I thought it would!"...

Yes? So, none of that is happening here.

My gold medal sentiment is "It hurts me when I sit still!" with "WOW! It's like someone put a cigar out on me! I wish I was into that sort of thing, that would make this way more tolerable!" coming in a close second.

Rounding out in third place, "There was a gaping wound in my body yesterday, perhaps today it will be a smaller, less gaping wound!"

Checks on it...

"Son of a *****!"

What the hell kind of date could I possibly plan at this point? One where the husband is downstairs pretending he is scruffy western guy for hours on end and I'm upstairs taking a 14 hour long nap. Mix in some 6 hour agony from a migraine that refuses to acknowledge a variety of pain medicine, and you have what I guess is our next date. Thursday he's taking off of work and taking me to the medical professionals. Where he'll make sure I "don't lie to the doctor."

I DON'T LIE.

I OMIT.

THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.

Thursday cannot come and go too quickly for me.

I Don't Have Cancer!

Hooray! I don't have cancer! Biopsy results were nice and boring.

And... I managed to put my back out last night taking the dog out.

Awesome.

Husband's reaction to "I don't have cancer!" was "I don't have cancer either!" and then we had a rousing back and forth about our biopsies.

His was just before Christmas if you remember, in a non-horrifying area, and his results had also been a big relief. It feels like so long ago to me, though.

"My biopsy was way cooler than your biopsy. They didn't inject you with a damn thing and they didn't cauterize anything," I taunted.

He just laughed.

"So therefore henceforth wherein mine was more medical-y."

He shook his head at me. I am glad I am so entertaining.

"I win!"

The War of Biopsies!

Of course, he is also not in any type of ridiculous pain.

He doesn't walk like a little old man.

He doesn't randomly yell out "ow" while sitting still on the couch watching television.

He is not medicated.

And he is sleeping through the night.

Crap. I think I just lost The War of Biopsies!

My Husband Takes Me To The Doctor

I do not like going to the doctor. Something really has to spur me on for me to make an appointment. Somewhere along the way, I became my father. Bad things have to be happening. Really bad things.

Yesterday morning, something on my body decided to go batsh*t crazy. Don't know what it is exactly but I've had it all my life and it's never caused any problems or concerns. It is in a most unfortunate area. Of course. I mean, why wouldn't it be?

I called my lady doctor's office and she was booked all week. The fastest appointment was for this morning with another lady doctor in the same office. Made the appointment and then called the hubby at work to ask if he could take me.

When I said I had just made a doctor's appointment, my husband's voice went all concern-y and he rearranged his schedule so he could take this morning off. He knows me so well.

He drove me to the doctor today. Sat in the waiting room next to me. Constantly patted me on the arm and knee and tried to engage me in conversation. He waited as I was called back and stayed back there forever. Although a big baby, I made the adult decision to let them do things to me. Things with needles and chopping and cauterizing. I came back out into the waiting room all red faced and hair all messed up.

I said, "I'm ready to go now."

He jumped up and was at my side immediately. He opened all the doors for me on our way to the car and didn't make fun of my new walk impersonating a little old man.

He drove me home. Offered to stay with me. I sent him back to work and knew that knowing he was there with me was the only reason the whole experience didn't give me a panic attack.

And that is one of the very many reasons why I love my husband.

That and I know he'll get food for me that I do not have to cook on his way home from work later today.

He's really shining in the husband department today.

The 12 Days of HOLY SH*TMAS: Post #3

Today, we finally got the results of the hubby's biopsy. I mentioned this briefly back in this post. You know, the thing giving my hysteria hysterics.

The hubby got the call while he was out picking up cat food and immediately called me. Benign lesion! Benign! Benign!

Benign!

Nothing to worry about for us right now! BENIGN!

Let there be college football in HD and baked potato skins stuffed with cheese, sour cream, turkey bacon, and scallions, all in the name of HE'S GOING TO LIVE!

I keep randomly hugging the hubby and telling him, "YOU'RE GOING TO LIVE!"

He keeps laughing at me and saying, "I told you it was nothing to worry about."

YOU WERE RIGHT.

This may be the only time I am happy saying those 3 words.

Tomorrow, there shall be cake! Because YOU'RE GOING TO LIVE!

And today, the 3rd post from the 12 Days of HOLY SH*TMAS. Happy happy joy joy makes me think about my husband, and home, and pets, and penguins. So, penguins!

My family gave me a giant stuffed penguin (cue me copying the little girl from this movie) for the Christmas penguin tree/kitchen area. My brother gave me a funny/cute penguin book.

And my father, always going above and beyond, got me this very coveted (by me) Hallmark ornament that lights up, moves, and plays a Christmas song. I have many of the less expensive, older penguin ornaments from this series on my penguin tree but knew when this one came out that it was just too expensive to buy for myself. No matter how much I may have wanted it. My father shouldn't have but I'm glad he did! *Giddy claps*

When I turned it on, Pandora (obvious naughty one) and Aphrodite (hiding under the chair, not as obvious naughty one) came running to check it out. Very elaborate!

And by elaborate, I mean the ornament AND the kitties' evil plans. Which I guess involved just staring at it really closely, since that was all they seemed to want to do. Of course, I took it away from them before it could go any further than that. My penguins! Mine!

Oh Christmas Season, How You #!%* Me Up

That four letter mash up there in the title is for mess, yes? Sure.

There was the pre-Christmas planning, our Christmas at home, our road trip and subsequent visit for holiday time with my family, the recuperation from our family fun time and getting back in gear after we returned home...

No matter how many lists I made, how many things I crossed off on my to-do list daily, I still managed to barely make it through this festive season. I sent maybe half of the Christmas cards I meant to send. My cookie jar, cookie-less 99% off the time (gasp!). The snow storm came and pushed back our timeline for travel and still, I ended up packing for our big trip at 8 pm the night before. About 10 miles into said big trip, the car's cruise control went out on my husband. Then the automatic locks went all wonky. I also forgot during the trip that we were driving on Christmas Day. I was hungry for 400 miles. Because nothing is open on Christmas Day.

All in all, our holiday went well. I didn't take many pictures because I'm a moron. We had a really nice time with my folks and brother. Time in their home and in ours was warm and peaceful. The pets enjoyed the merriment. We only found one or two sparkly hairballs the entire month.

Oh, there was some drama. A regular, run of the mill, average, every day check up doctor's appointment a few days before Christmas for my husband turned into a lot of swearing and hysteria from the wife. A change in travel plans to allow for a specialist appointment. Now we're waiting for test results which will be available "in a week or two"...

And talk myself down from shoving all my glittery garland up the medical community's collective arse. And breathe. And breathe.

Thanks, nursing, for making me sure something is never nothing. For opening my eyes to the fact that anything can happen at any time. I make a conscious decision every morning to wait for the results before reacting to them.

I've thrown myself into different tasks. Super cleaning. Organizing. More super cleaning and organizing. Anything not to dwell. I mean, hell, we finally watched the Hurt Locker. That Netflix DVD has been sitting on top of the television for months. I didn't even cry.

We watched the Sorcerer's Apprentice after that, and I shed a tear there. Stupid Nick Cage. You'd think I'd be cheering during your death-ish scene but no. Sniffle, sniffle. I don't like you so why do I watch anything you're in? I don't know. Maybe because you're in every other movie. Please stop making movies so I can see actors I actually enjoy watching.

The only time I'm glad Nick Cage exists is when Andy Samberg does an impression of him on Saturday Night Live.

Where was I? Oh yeah. The Christmas Season. We survived. Now onto 2011! Time for some hardcore dating!