|I may like STUFF too much.|
If I even have any blog readers left, I apologize to you for my absence. Two things happened almost simultaneously in the last month.
- As I mentioned in the last post, I was assigned to write a story about art glass and the learning curve has been super-steep. Busy, busy, busy. As I also mentioned in the last post, I’m now a little obsessed with glass. Not so much art glass, as glass itself. I bought some bowls that are too wide to be easily used as vases, but can be if I figure out how to use a frog. My mother knew all about frogs and had a whole collection that I gave to Goodwill after she died because I couldn't imagine ever needing a frog. Oh well. But before I go buy a frog I have to finish writing this story about glass. Like, by a few hours ago.
- I feel squirmy sharing this second thing, but it’s the real reason I haven’t been blogging and it happens to people all the time so I can’t see any reason to keep it a secret. Except that it makes me feel squirmy. So. In June I had the first MRI of my life, then the second MRI, and then a biopsy. I WAS SO SCARED. The biopsy was no picnic, but the real soul crusher was the uncertainty which dragged on for several weeks. I didn’t curl up in fetal position and start sucking my thumb, but nor did I cheerfully proceed with baking Austrian tortes and blogging and forming an opinion about foolish, foolish Paula Deen. In fact, I decided to skip the whole Paula Deen chapter altogether. One night last week, people were talking about her and I just got up and cleared the table. Fortunately, this turned out to be a health scare as a opposed to a health catastrophe. There is nothing wrong. I am hugely relieved, though having enjoyed a small taste of 21st century medical drama, I hope to be eaten by wild guinea pigs immediately before the next health scare or catastrophe.
What else can I tell you? It is very hot, I thoroughly enjoyed World War Z, and there is now a baby bobcat preying on our chickens. I find myself unable to hate a baby bobcat.