Friday Follies

So... a dose of dark humor for you.

I can finally wear deodorant again!  Woohoo - it's July in the middle of the middle west - you should be thankful for that!  The surgery wounds and JP drain holes are almost completely healed.  The irony in this?  I can't feel my left pit to know if I am getting any deo on or not.  Sigh... bought aerosol deo so I just have to aim somewhere under my shirt.

I have as much hair on my legs, and jaw line????  as I have on my head.  Shouldn't there be a bonus no leg hair growback or something for going through cancer?  And really, I look estrogen deficient with the blonde beard that I see in the mirror.  Oh wait, thanks to that pesky ovarian cyst removed a few years ago, and chemo, and tamoxifen, I AM estrogen deficient!  You'll be happy to know that since I can't feel my pit, and I am missing those 22 lymph nodes, I get an electric razor for the pits and legs!  Now you all know what to get me for Christmas!

I got called Sir about 3 times last week.  Two more fills for the foobs, please and thank you.  I refuse to wear pink!

I promised a paint story, so here's that one, too.  One of the things I was working on pre-surgery was getting our back porch pretty-fied.  It has been just insulation stuck between the 2x4's since Tom and his dad enclosed it before my entrance to the family or this house.  So, I put up cardboard when the toddlers started picking at the fluffy pink stuff, and then plastic thinking I knew what a vapor barrier was, and hallelujah, there's some leftover roof $$, so it got drywalled last fall.  It finally got several coats of paint between chemo and surgery.  And there's 4 coat hook racks ( 16 hooks total - and we still will have coats on the floor!) to be hung up now.  And I am looking for a bench to go under the coat hooks.  And shoe organization?  Probably delusional on that one.  But back to the paint...

The tray on the ladder wriggled as I was filling it, and I was quite certain it was going to come crashing down and I bumped it trying to catch it.  Takes a special kind of painter to get paint in your belly button and on your bra!  Eh, that size bra is unnecessary now anyway!  So Tom, what floor are we putting down, cause that's just a mess!

To finish the paint thought... Tom and his dad tore apart and reconstructed the (only) bathroom when I was pregnant with Evan, and they took a bathtub sized chunk from the 2nd bedroom, so had to redo the bedroom too.  By this time, I had given birth, and was probably driving my in-laws crazy, and they were both painting the now nursery, along with help from my mom.  My mom stepped in and spilled the paint.  All over the hardwood floor.  And we had accidentally gotten oil-based paint, so I am pretty sure all 3 grandparents were high from the fumes.

Like mother, like daughter!