So the parakeet lives, and actually rocks. She sings, poops prodigiously and eats a ton. I think those last two are related.

The fight is receding into the back ground. I still have my radar ratcheted all the way up and looking over my shoulder for future events. Damn I can’t read the future. Not even with this amazing, high-powered radar I’ve cultivated over the years. But that – dear non-existent reader – is a story for another day

The Sweet 16 party makes me sad. No one will return my call. I think it’s going to be the skating rink, but I don’t like the skating rink so much. Sigh.

Mohs Surgery scar is much less red, less puckery. Its getting better. I’m going to have a cool scar. I can tell everyone I was knifed in a bar fight. I’ll have to change my picture soon. Something silly.

SO! last night I found a lump I don’t think belongs in my boob. I’m scheduled for a routine mammogram in 2 weeks or so, but jeez, what a head trip. I’m almost 50, in good shape. I’m not liking thinking about losing one or both of the twins. Still it beats the alternative if that’s what it comes to.

So many threads, so little time. I feel like a LOST episode. All the backstory and I’m still not sure how I crashlanded alive on the island or why there is a polar bear, or smoke monster or 4 toed statue. I’m thinking to myself….HOW THE HELL DID I GET HERE