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Well, I found it. And I wore it. To the hospital. For the ultrasound. And I was right: it was JUST what that appointment needed. Just before Christmas I ran into the lady who performed the December 4th ultrasound at the grocery store. Like, literally (although accidentally) ran my basket into hers. I recognized her, but . . . → Read More: Punctuating Wednesday evening now and it has been a long, long twelve hours since I drug myself out of bed, brushed my teeth, and plugged the property management phone in to charge. Eleven and one-sixth-ish long hours since that charging phone chirped good-morning-here-are-two-voicemails-I-took-in-lieu-of-ringing-this-morning. Eleven long hours since I returned the calls to discover a tenant with a . . . → Read More: Long Hours On Saturday I joked that if I could come up with another variation of the word “suck” to describe the current situation I would throw it out there. Since then: suckage, suckification, and suckening. And now I’m pretty well over the desperate derivationing of “suck.” For which we can all be glad, I am . . . → Read More: The Second Wave, The Broken Cervix Some things are just huge, heartbreaking, breath-stopping suckfulness. Some things are the opposite. It’s 10:00 on a Saturday morning and cuddling next to me in bed in polka-dot, footed pajamas, is a 20-month old little girl, The Child, whose cheeks are flush and rosy as she giggles through her first viewing of Rudolph the . . . → Read More: The Worst Case: Suckfulness |
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