My biscuits are burning!

My biscuits are burning!

Looks like Cowboy Murray slept through the oven timer again.

Well then. It’s been a decent week, all in all.

Especially if you squint while reading this.

I turned 40, which means that I can now call my friends who are still in their 30’s names like dear and honey.

I had a low key, yet very festive birthday party, an ice cream cake, many kickass birthday wishes, and a care package that arrived from my wonderful friend Mental Mama.

Butterflies and hand knitted washcloths that are too awesome to scrub my arse with!!

Thank you so much, my dear!

See what I did there, MM?

I got through my least favorite day of the year by writing some good memories of my father. I think that after all of these years of being miserable, he would be pleased that I didn’t mope about all day like I usually do.

I finally got the picc line out of my basilic vein, although now I have this tremendously sore bruise on the underside of my arm. I hated the damn thing, which had started to bleed and feel icky. I was able to take a decent shower for the first time in what felt like ages yesterday. Before that, we had to wrap my arm in Saran Wrap. I couldn’t get it wet or feed it after midnight.

Having one arm literally useless (they told me not to lift more than 5 pounds) really sucked the bologna pony.

I saw my regular doctor, and the infection appears to be gone. She said that my white cell count was 20,000 the night I was admitted to the hospital. Now it’s back to the normal range.

My blood work has always came back squeaky clean in the past, so I guess having the sugars, as my best friend likes to call it, is still kinda a shock to me. I had a bad feeling deep down, what with all of the garbage that I have been eating the last year or so. Adding another illness to my repertoire while hospitalized really sucker punched me.

My docย wants me to take the diabetes seriously, and I have already lost 10 pounds. (That hospital food tasted like shit on a cracker.)

I might actually be able to reverse it, who knows. Stranger things have happened, like that time I whipped out my boobs like water balloons at a Halloween party.

Tequila was involved. I can’t say anymore, you already know too much.

I’m still puffing away. Damn you nicotine and rage attacks!

My kid is having some issues at school, and I want to call her guidance counselor in the worst way. She told me to please don’t, but it’s hard not to want to step in. She’s a senior, so this might be her last chance to take advantage of my helpfulness. But I won’t. It’s against her wishes, so I will keep my nose out of it.


I did promise to pick her up everyday, though. She has early release this year, and now that I have my van, I will spoil her. I even promised to have an afternoon snack ready for her, to make up for all of those years of being the first kid at the daycare at 6:30 am. I can still picture her all blurry eyed, eating a bowl of Fruit Loops, staring sleepily at me as I kissed her goodbye.

She smiled when I told her and she said cool, which makes me happy.

I have been taking half hour power naps this summer, mostly because of the puppy. It hasn’t been so bad yet, but I might be mega screwed when I have my next flare. I am surprised that my recent illness hasn’t brought one upon me yet.

I can only hope that maybe my body is like, “Shit give the girl a break already!”

I have things that need to be done, like cleaning my house. God bless my husband and my offspring, but this place needs some bleach.

Have a great weekend, and help yourself to one of these burnt biscuits. If you slather a bunch of jam on them, they’re actually really shitty.