End of a Long Week

Whew! I've just finished the first week back to work and back to having the kids at home. They were even around a couple extra days this week, as X and I had horse-traded some days to accommodate my surgery recovery.

I'm doing great - surgery results are awesome! My only complaint right now, and it is a minor one, is that wearing a crotchless bodysuit for six weeks is NOT AS SEXY AS YOU MIGHT IMAGINE! Hahaha. That part I am tired of, for sure. It rides up on my thighs. It gives me wedgies. It annoys me to no end.

However. That's a pretty small complaint. I am guessing when I go back to the doctor on Monday I will be given a clean bill of health. Originally, he had said no running for three weeks after surgery, no biking for four. Then when I had my fluidy-complication, he said all bets were off.

Well, I'll show him - I ran for the bus yesterday morning without even thinking about it and it didn't bother me one bit. I stopped when I remembered I wasn't supposed to be running. Well, okay, I stopped when I got on the bus, but I chastised myself for running.

I did willfully run for the bus again this morning, but that was serious business, as if I missed it, it was really going to throw the day off-kilter. Again, no apparent problems with running. Although I do think of some horrible horror book I read when I was a young kid babysitting, I think it was called "Funhouse." Anyway, someone got gutted, and their final thoughts were they would be okay if they "just didn't fall down." Well, of course he fell down. With all this incision work on me, there's a little bit of "Wow, I hope I don't bust open like a Jiffy Pop."

Kinda looks like me right now.

Alright, more later. Tomorrow I'm either walking a 5K or bailing on a 5K because of the weather. I will talk to the most motivated 5K'er in my house, Alli, tonight about it. I registered the whole family (kids were free) so I'm trying to gauge a) if I feel like walking a 5K; b) if I feel like dragging two grumbling boys through a 5K.

Date on Sunday with bikey-bikey friend. (Seriously, I'm getting worse and worse at nicknames, if that were possible.) I'll have to take Kim's suggestion she cribbed from some book and just start calling them "Ex-boyfriend Number xx," bahahaha. I have been laughing at that for days. We're going to see uhhh, the James Bond movie. I don't care what movie we see, it's at my favorite theater so thass' why I chose it. 

They don't make 'em like this anymore. 

He's never been there. Prepare to be wowed, sir. It's gorgeous. It's one of Paul Allen's pet projects.