There was a question in the comments about how I was doing, since my fall last Saturday. I thought I was doing fairly well, but then I went to the gym last night (stupid, stupid, stupid) and probably re-injured something or interfered in the healing process or whateverthehell, and now I'm in a lot of pain today. In fact, I just told the husbeast, the last time I felt this bad, I'd totaled a motorcycle and was waiting to have orthopedic surgery.
You know that scene in "Raiders of the Lost Ark", where Marion gets irritated and asks Indy where he DOESN'T hurt, and he points to a little spot on his elbow and says "HERE!" ...um, yeah. That's me.
The Goober had her official two-year-old checkup today. She's 36 inches/80 cm tall and weighs 34 pounds/15 kg. I give you this info so you can imagine the fun time I had wrestling her into the Jeep and back out again. Twice. (She's off the charts for growth, and perfectly healthy. The nurse was marveling at her vocabulary.) We're taking part in a medical convention known as "Family Practice", meaning the whole herd of us has the same doctor. (This can be very good, like when everybody gets sick with the same germ - only one appointment needed.) So while I was there, the doc asked if I had any other questions, meaning about the Goober, and I said, well, yes, but it has nothing to do with the baby. Long story short, I mooched some anti-inflammatories off him, and I see him tomorrow to discuss my knees, my thyroid, and probable rotator cuff surgery (oh yeah, have I mentioned that? I've ripped the shit out of my shoulder, carrying the Goober around).
Nothing but good times ahead.
OTHERWISE, everything is ticking along smoothly. I've been frolicing through Ravelry and have learned something very interesting: I never finish projects for myself. Everyone else gets stuff knit for them, start to finish, but I wind up ditching my own projects to make something for someone else. (Yes. I realize every last one of you reading this is sitting there going "No SHIT, you fucking moron!" but allow me my grand revelations, if you please.) I also realized the other day that I'm almost hoping I need shoulder surgery so I don't have to worry about the Christmas deadlines. That's... really sick. I need to sit down with Dolores and have a couple cigarettes and see some male strippers and blow off some steam. (I may have found a good alternative to that, but more later.)
So that's my life. How about yours?
*This post brought to you by the wonders of painkillers. BabbleBabbleBabbleBabble.