Fluid Pudding

I felt a semi-urgent need to post today, because I just discovered that yesterday’s post was my 666th on this particular platform, and it’s THE CHRISTMAS SEASON! The last thing I need to do is sit around eating Indian nachos and humming The First Noel with a big mark of the beast hanging around on my website. Am I right? (I am.)

We ventured out a few hours back (with our Ventura filter on) and chose our Christmas tree.

I would give you all of the details, but I have a problem with the organization from whom we purchased this year’s Scotch pine. They are slowly making strides in the right direction, but still. (Please know that Mitt Romney and I actually agree on this particular issue, so don’t think I’m just sitting around eating Indian nachos and being a big liberal jerk with a spooky mark of the beast hanging around on my website and The First Noel ringing in my head. I’d like to build the world a home and furnish it with love. Grow apple trees and honey bees and snow white turtle doves.)

This guy sawed the butt off of our tree, and he let Harper keep it. (The butt. Also, the tree.) After counting the rings, we’ve determined that Harper is the same exact age as the tree. With that said, we really don’t know what we’re doing, although Jeff was a Boy Scout. Was. WAS.

The tree is currently hanging out in the corner soaking up some water and letting her branches rest a bit. I’ll be lighting her tomorrow while the kids are at school (My mother taught me to be VERY particular about how to place lights upon (and into) a tree. It’s a job that’s best accomplished with no other humans in the house, as I tend to get pricked and then I tend to swell because I’m allergic to trees and then I tend to say The S Word.).

Speaking of my mother, she made this wreath for us a few years back, and it’s always the first thing we hang when the holiday season rolls around. And to the Earth it gave great light and so it continued both day and night. It’s happening.
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Do you remember a few years back when I explained the whole mammogram thing to you? In a nutshell (in a nutshell?), you go to a place like Metro Imaging, you fill out some paperwork, you take off your shirt, you get smooshed four times, and then five minutes later you’re walking out the door with a smile on your face and a certificate that says, “Clear!”

This morning I went in for my mammogram. I filled out the questionnaire, I pulled off my shirt, I got smooshed four times, and then the tech came back into the room and said, “The doctor wants me to take a few more shots. We’re seeing something on your right breast.”

Me: What are you seeing?

Tech: It’s a mass. If you want, I can show it to you on the screen.

So, I walked over (with shaky legs because I’m no superhero) and checked out my mass. It’s a big white thing that sort of looks like an embryonic foot.

She took four more x-rays, but this time with really crazy smooshing. Like, borderline painful smooshing. (Actually, take out the word Borderline in that last sentence.)

Tech: Go ahead and wait in here in case he needs more images.

I sat in the chair and thought to myself, “This is how it starts for people who are about to be told that they have cancer.”

I then thought about Virginia. I thought about Virginia a lot.

Pretty soon the doctor came in and shook my hand and told me that he doesn’t really like what he’s seeing, and was wondering if we could do two more shots. If he doesn’t like how they look, he would like me to have an ultrasound.

Doctor: Your breasts are very dense.

Me: That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day.

(I tend to ramble semi-inappropriately when I’m going through the whole rush of adrenaline thing. It’s either lift a Subaru Forester with one hand or ramble. There was no Forester in sight.)

So, they did the shots, and I was once again left in the room by myself.

That’s when I started thinking that we should probably make this Christmas really great because you never know what’s going to happen in the next year and I should probably write some letters to the girls to be opened on their prom nights and their graduation nights and their wedding nights and when/if they have babies. (I know. Do you have any idea how much of a fatalist I can be? I can definitely be a fatalist.)

The tech returned.

“He wants us to do the ultrasound.”

So, five minutes later found me lying on a table with gel squirted on my bare chest (cue the raunchy music) and I was all shaky and feeling sick and the ultrasound tech was young and pretty and wanted to talk about Black Friday.

Tech: Do you shop on Black Friday?

Me: I don’t really shop, but I like to drink coffee and watch the people. But I can’t really think about that right now.

Tech: Well, I know I won’t be going to Best Buy or any of those places where fights could break out and blah blah blah blah blah…

(I honestly couldn’t focus on a thing she was saying, because I was thinking about the knitting projects that I would like to finish and the books I need to read and the freelance chapters I want to turn in and the letters I should write and last April I ran into a friend I hadn’t seen in 12 years and we’ve spent some time getting to know each other again and wondering why we’re back in each other’s lives now. Like, what is the meaning of this? Did our paths cross at that coffee place just because we were both craving cookies at the same time (I tend to not believe in coincidence), or is there a reason that goes a little bit deeper and is THIS the reason? Me on this table with ten bad x-rays and some sloppy goop on my chest and a not very positive attitude?)

((Please know that I know how DRAMATIC I am. I’m honestly the luckiest person I know, so when the system hiccups, I tend to fuhreak out. I may be charming from a distance. Close up? Beady-eyed and jittery. Think about a wet Chihuahua. That’s me, but bipedal. (Although, I run like a cheetah in my dreams.)))

Ten minutes after the ultrasound, the doctor came in.

Doctor: Are you tired of seeing me yet?

Me: Heh. Yes. No?

Doctor: I just wanted to tell you that it’s a cyst. Just a big fluid-filled cyst. Nothing to worry about.

Me: Nothing to worry about?

Doctor: Nope. Put your shirt on, and we’ll see you in a year.

I put my shirt on, walked out to my car, and numbly drove to Trader Joe’s where I purchased every single item in the store that has anything at all to do with stir frying vegetables. (Don’t ask questions. I don’t know the answers to your questions.) I also bought myself a tiny gift box of dark chocolate sea salted caramels, because my breasts are very dense and I’ll use just about anything as an excuse to treat myself to sea salted caramels.

I didn’t get the certificate this time around, and that’s okay. I have no space on my wall for certificates, and no more time to waste, and that sounds like a big profound statement, but I didn’t mean for it to be. I actually have a freelance deadline tomorrow, and my final spreadsheet is big and spooky. Like my breasts. I have no idea how to end this entry. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

Woke up.

Ate two pancakes.

Went to church where the pastor referenced Katy Perry and Hunger Games, and I took that as a sign that I’m exactly where I need to be.

Joined a friend for a nose ring, vegan biscuits and gravy (I know!), perfume oil mixing (Indica! Earth! Black Pepper!), and a soy chai.

Came home and accidentally fell asleep on the couch.

This is what’s happening right now.

No complaints. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>

After spending the morning dancing through a disappointing Fandango debacle, Meredith and I were able to see Catching Fire with a few friends. (Meredith wore her District 12 Tribute shirt and her Mockingjay pin, which means she’s now one of those people who dresses up for movies. I love that so much.)

After the movie, we went home where the coat I ordered a few days back had been delivered! (This is exciting to no one but me: Eddie Bauer told me that the coat wouldn’t be delivered until December 2nd. Because they were able to beat that day by nine days, I’m suddenly full of Eddie Bauer love. That’s how they get you.) ((Also, I feel the weird need to tell you that I did NOT pay anywhere NEAR $159 for that coat. Huge sale earlier in the week and I had a coupon code for free shipping, and I AM TRYING TO BE FRUGAL, DAVE RAMSEY!!!))

Next up? Jeff built a fire and the girls and I went on a soft boot adventure. We had no luck, although Kohl’s DID have a green screen and a downloadable app, so we were able to mess around with that for about three minutes or so.

After returning home, Meredith and I had bean soup leftovers, Harper had peanut butter and toast, and Jeff ate a salad.

I just described our entire day to you. I’m currently sitting here drinking hot tea and thinking about pajamas. Harper is practicing the piano, Meredith is reading, Jeff is watching the Mizzou game downstairs, the dogs are sleeping on the couch, and the fire smells amazing. (I’ll be in bed by 9:30.)

Tomorrow I’ll be returning to church for the first time in a long time. Afterwards? Brunch and browsing things that smell like the way I might want to smell followed by walking through a Christmas light display before it’s opened to automobile traffic. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, you know.

Twenty three down and seven to go, and I’m really not minding NaBloPoMo at all. Here’s hoping you’re not minding it, either. ‘ ‘ ‘text/javascript’>