The other head

As everyone has noticed (or at least those who stuck around to check my blog in spite of me not posting), I've been taking irregular hiatus from this blog.

It's not that I had nothing to write about, but rather - I had too much to write about.

During this time, my husband has been through surgery. Yes, I can now talk about it, with his permission. Anyone recall my post about the X-ray of the shaft? Yes, the relative is my husband. The x-ray was just a precursor for surgery. And no, we're not talking vasectomy. Though I did have to make sure my husband did not accidently check the wrong box on his medical questionnaire.

Anyway, as my husband was in pre-op waiting to be taken in, I kept him company and tried to pass the three long hours with some enjoyable chitchat. But then a brilliant idea crossed my mind, I jumped off my chair and said, "I'll be right back!" My husband, who knows me fairly well, asked me, "Where are you going???" With an evil smile I answered, "Going to get a sharpie!" (Keep in mind, my husband knows me well!) And he says, "No, you cannot write on it 'This way up'!" I innocently replied that I was just going to write on his forehead, "Not this head!"

Surgery went well and successful. Ten days with a catheter I believe, were more painful for me to watch than for him to endure. But we're past it, and he managed to go through it with the regular manly complaints. Those are the times when I don't need to ask why is it that women can go through nine months pregnancy and labor and men can't tolerate the simple cold.

Apparently, the stress of living with him caused me enough sympathy to go through pregnancy symptoms. The pregnancy symptoms somehow coincided with my OBGYN calling with the results of that notorious blood test claiming I'm closer to menopause (WTF!!!) than I am to having kids.

So obviously I never had a chance to digest her bad news, while my body was fully anticipating a child any minute now. Eventually, after ten days of consulting with other women on why I could be late, I decided to call my OBGYN. She scheduled me for a blood test that afternoon. I took the opportunity to beg the phlebotomist to perform the other blood tests I never got done the month before due to the incompetency of her fellow phlebotomists.

The following day I no longer needed to hear the results of the blood test.

I spent the weekend digesting the news that I will most likely never be pregnant. My way of digesting bad news - bury myself in work. So I worked on Saturday. Had a blast, photos will follow.
Spent several hours checking the internet about adoption. When I got to the post from a mother who was happy she finally got her desired child after 15 years of waiting, I decided I don't need any more depressing news than I can handle.

Anyway, if any of you guys out there know a small 2 or 3 year old boy - cute, happy, artistic genius, and already circumcised and all - we have a dog.


Spent this morning at the USCIS offices to extend my Green Card (which is really pink). I was so scared to talk or joke around. I think the people that work there get whipped every morning with a dozen lashes or at least poked with a hot stick if they smile. Such serious people.

I was instructed to sit down and look at the camera. Well, being a rather obedient person that I am, I sat, looked at the camera and gave my best smile - when the immigration officer said, "Don't show your teeth! New regulations." Oooookay, lady, I already got my jaywalking ticket, I'd hate to get ticketed for smiling at a U.S. federal agency, dog forbid.