Hello!

I sent this image as a text to my mother...

Me: "I don't totally hate it."
Mom: "I like it. But you father wants to know why you're digging fence post holes."

*sigh*

Will the worrying never stop?  In truth, Tony wouldn't even let me move the wood. All I did was hold the level and mark the lines.  Eventually the wood will age to the same color, except those orange-ish pieces... we have no idea what will happen with those. Bottom line, it hides the semi-vacant house behind us, gives us a great place to dump our leaves, and ensures Youngest won't take out the windows of said house when he gets his bow and arrow set for Christmas.

Tomorrow marks 30 days since my adventure started.  I have seen my doctor and the surgeon, both of whom concur that I'm healing up just fine and that I can resume "normal" activities provided I don't push myself. I can go back to work on the first of December and if for some reason I feel I need more time I can call them and they will extend the date. I doubt I will extend it out as I am feeling pretty well, with the exception of the pancreas stuff which is still a work in progress.

In the mean time, the Christmas shopping is done, the house is relatively clean, and the cat has no idea what to do with my company all day.  And while I am not venturing on the roof to play with a vat of tar, I have reorganized the closet, done some light yard work, and helped Tony put up the fence in the back.  Before all this I would often think that it would be great being out of work for six weeks.  (Think of how much I could get done!)  But in actuality it's been difficult for me, having the first week completely lost to the hospital and the subsequent 3 just getting through the day, even if that day was of 18 hours of sleeping. Tony endured many, "I'm bored" phone calls, regardless of if I had things I could do, simply because my get up and go had gotten up and went, coupled with crazy weather, dropping temperatures and snow, it really made for a miserable time. I am now fairly certain that "gusto" is contained in your gall bladder, because now that mine is gone, so is my gusto to get things done.  Pair that with not having to work and knowing everything can get done tomorrow, it's making for an very unproductive month.  I didn't even really cook dinner, because cooking dinner involved going to the grocery store and, well, being awake at dinner time. Which more often than not, didn't happen.

Any-hoo-dle, thank you to everyone who checked in on me.  I had some technical difficulties with my computer mouse making it virtually impossible to type.  But I did read and tried to keep up with everyone.  I have a daily dates with Drew Carey and Wayne Brady, have caught up on old episodes of Gilmore Girls and Reba, and Tony and I finished our binge watching of Breaking Bad this weekend. (What happens to Jesse???  Anyone? Anyone?  I would totally love a spin off where he gets his sh!t together and becomes a HS Chemistry teacher with has Brock in his class. Oh come on! You know you want him to have a happy ending. Maybe he becomes a celebrity chef!)  Honestly, it's not my type of show at all, but I got so sucked in by the genius of it.  I mean, seriously? How did they come up with some of this stuff?  I've also had a few Red box days, caught up on some of Janie's suggested movies.  Y'all have made it nice to be home, even if I couldn't write to you while I was here.

I'll be back with better stories soon.  It seems that the bulk of my fodder comes from the insanity of work, which apparently now happens 7 days a week.

And yet still, that last Christmas package hasn't arrived.

They must have sent it UPS...