Speaking of which, I have been OUT OF THE HOUSE now. Twice! Once was a couple weeks ago, to Wal-Mart, where I was forced to ride the little motorized cart, because standing up...well, let me explain to you about standing up and walking around in my particular post-op condition. My exterior incision healed MAD fast. Like, in 3 days. Seriously, my body does that, which is why I no longer allow surgeons to install staples into my skin when closing incisions, only to watch them disappear and then have to have them painfully dug out a week later. ANYWAY...thought that was gross? You ain't read nothin' yet. About the standing upright: The reason I can't do it for very long is because of--get ready--the weight of my intestines pulling on the hundreds of interior stitches/cauteries inside my abdominal cavity, where adhesions were repaired. LOTS of 'em. It hurts. So I take a lot of sitting-down breaks. And oh, yeah, before I forget, let me just record for all posterity that stitches. Are dissolving, and falling out. Of. My. Cervix. Thank you, and goodnight, while I put my head between my knees and breathe slowly and steadily for a few moments.
No, I do NOT know how someone who's had 10 surgeries can still be so squeamish. I have to limit my time on the HysterSisters website to about 5 minutes at a time, with hyperventilation breaks.
So, back to Wal-Mart. The motorized cart I chose ran out of juice in the middle of the "baking supplies" aisle, and Alex had to go and get me another one. Which, of course, he RODE back to where I was, cackling like a madman. All right, the cackling might have been in my head, but he was thinking cackling, I swear. And it was mad cackling. Also, I was Not Good with the motorized cart. I ran into a lot of displays, knocked a few things over, and possibly injured one Pentecostal woman (sorry). I did, however, enjoy that beeping, "LOOK OUT, I'M BACKING UP, AND THIS BEEPING NOISE MEANS THAT I AM NOT REQUIRED TO EVEN LOOK AND SEE IF ANY PERSON IS IN MY PATH! BEWAAAAARE!!!" That's right, the beeping puts the onus on YOU, the poor unfortunate soul in the path of my motorized shopping cart. Don't say you haven't been warned. I want one of those beepers installed on my very own person. I think a lot of you would, too, so don't judge me.
Anyhoo, that was my first outing (aside from doctor visits) away from home since my Terrible Horrible No-Good Awful Operation Day. The second was last night, Halloween. I haven't been in a terrible rush to post pictures, because it's nothing you haven't seen before. Bella dressed as--BRACE YOURSELF--a princess. Shocking, no? We took her to our church (I know--Halloween? Church? Wha?!? No fear, it was called a "fall festival," and Jesus was everywhere). Every year, our church, in what is really a great community outreach, offers a safe alternative to door-to-door trick-or-treating by holding "Trunk-or-Treat," in which volunteer church members decorate their cars and, well...fill the trunks with candy, and there are games and prizes, too. It's pretty cool, actually. Some of you who've been reading me a long time might recall that this is the event at which my dad, when confronted with a young boy in a Harry Potter (pre-film) costume, asked him, "Who are you supposed to be, Smart Dracula?" (Personally, I think "Nearsighted Dracula" would have played for a bigger laugh, but I'm assuming there was time pressure involved.)
Last night, the weather was iffy enough, having rained a little earlier during the day, that they moved the whole works inside the church, and MAN, was it crowded. Kids were everywhere. Every child had to register upon entering, and that job alone looked inSANE. There was a cheerful cop at the door (a real one, not just a guy in a costume--I'm guessing), too, so safety was being taken seriously. Bella was totally agog at the spectacle, and I can't say I blame her. It was WAY cooler than door-to-door. She just moved from table/booth to table/booth, gathering candy and playing games and delighting at all the costumes. And if she saw another princess? Well, that was INSTANT bonding. It was all, "So, where is your kingdom? Do you have a prince? Serfs? Cool." She got butterflies painted onto her face, which I think was the highlight of her day--at least until she got to redeem all her game-winning tickets for a prize, and chose a vividly-colored kite. We closed the place down, and came home WAY wound up, and laden with sugary goodness.
In fact, Bella was so excited over the whole thing, that we couldn't get her to sleep until almost 10:00 P.M. And me? Well, despite frequent sitting-down-on-the-floor breaks, the event did me in to such an extent that I couldn't even work up the gumption (is that a Southern word?) to get her ready for school today. So she and I spent the day in our underwear, eating cookies and candy and watching cartoons on TV and Beck videos on YouTube. Don't worry, we did have a nutritious lunch: sandwich for her, cheese-dip for me. You may begin sending in your nominations for Mother of the Year at your earliest convenience. When Alex got home, and looked into her plastic pumpkin, and asked, "Where did all her candy go?" I just pointed to the manic preschooler leapfrogging across the bedroom carpet, hammering out a rousing, "I MAY NEVER MARCH IN THE INFANTRY..." (seriously, where is my child learning these songs?).
And I just now realized that this post had NO real discernable point, and no beginning, middle or end. I don't know if that's what you can expect every day of November, but I hope not. There will be days, I'm sure, where you can probably expect some pretty lame content. I'd anticipate Google search reports, rants about TV commercials, spam subject-lines, and if I'm desperate enough, posts like this:
"My husband uses a deodorant for women."
But I promise you this, peoples: I will TRY. I want you back, and I will prove it. I love you. You can trust me. I will BE HERE. I realize that, thanks to the great influence of La Fussy, so will several hundred OTHER bloggers, but know that, when you're here? I love you for YOU. I don't judge. You complete me. You had me at "hello."
In other words? Please, Internets, come back to me. I'm your huckleberry.