I've plotted out how I'm going to finish this giant math book I'm editing (which is actually four math books) by my self-imposed deadline of my son's birthday.* I literally have a grid of every day between now and December 21 (yes, weekends too, shoot me now), with a Herculean task listed on each day. Well, we'll see. So far so good, and I have a lot of time this week to focus; my other clients are staying quiet and non-needy (knock on wood!), which is just how I love them this month.
My fondest dearest hope is that I get so far ahead this week that I can take the weekend "off" and do all my other life crap. And maybe go to the movies, I haven't seen a movie in a theater in years.
On my plate:
- Proofread Ruth Doan MacDougall's two latest books!!!!
- Finalize a bunch of church stuff — fall term is ending, winter term begins, lots of things to do
- Get ready for Christmas!
- Ride my bike and lift weights, in prep for my upcoming major surgery
- I've been very dedicated about my Deep Water class, which is so much fun. The hardest part is getting my body into a swimsuit and out the front door (it's dark, it's cold, this is exactly LAST on my list of what sounds good at 6:50 p.m.), but once I'm on my way, I'm happy. Anyway! At the end of class, I take my hair out of my tight scrunchy bun and shake it out, and everyone around me oohs and aahs. It is quite gratifying. My hair is longish right now, and I curl it on pink foam rollers, because I would love to be a 1950s' housewife. Fortunately, Husband always thinks I'm cute ("You look great!" "You are no judge of this." "What do you mean?" "You think I look great when I floss." "Yeah! So?").
So that's fun, hearing all the ladies murmur over pretty pretty me, but last night I got a rather surprising compliment after a swim class:
Our teacher, Badass Beverly, plays a range of music, some of which I HATE, but last night she was totally singing my life with her words, and I sang along to every lyric from the Forrest Gump soundtrack. And apparently I've found my new career! Hee.
- My cancer prevention doc is such a cutie — about my age, I think, but a teensy little thing; she wears short flippy skirts and long jazzy earrings and is just adorable. I said that I was thrilled to be more than halfway through my Tam experience, and she said, "So, do you want to quit?" I said, " . . . ?"
I kinda don't feel like it should be up to me! (Though, hmm, I have many years of experience as a Candy Striper. And I read First You Cry, Betty Rollin's account of her breast cancer, probably 20 times, so maybe I am very well qualified to make this decision, how do I know.) She said, "Its benefits are cumulative. We think five years is good. We think 10 years is really good. It's up to you." I said, "Well, I've come this far, I might as well stick out the five years," but I'm thinking, Oh, shit, 10 years??? No no no.
- Hmm, speaking of cancer prevention, I believe I failed to update you on my colonoscopy. Remember last time how I had a horrible migraine, they couldn't get the IV in and I cried, I threw up afterward,** and after all that my preparation got a grade of "Fair"?
WELL. This time, I followed the bland low-fiber diet meticulously (gross), which is much easier to do when you're freaking told about it ahead of time. I drank lots of caffeinated tea and didn't have a headache, they had no trouble inserting the IV, I felt quite well on the whole, and it all went swimmingly. And my scrupulous preparation paid off with a grade of: "Fair."
WHAT THE FUCK, COLON?????
Turns out (oh, this is so lovely — I can't wait to share it with you!), "obesity" is a risk factor for Fair preparation. My body fat is keeping my colon from emptying completely. Good. God.
Next time, in addition to the TWO "cleanse agents" I have to consume, I have to be on Miralax for a week ahead of time. SHOOT ME NOW.
Well, it's many years from now, I will have two gorgeous knees by then, maybe I will have lost a lot of weight and not be so morbidly obese any more. A girl can dream. I'd like to be thinner so I can finally get an A on my colonoscopy! Hey, whatever motivates you.
- I also had my yearly mammogram, my boobs are perfect, and Dr. Dixie shared a most interesting fact with me. My last period was in January, I'm still waiting to hit that one-bloodless-year menopause milestone, but she said, "The fact that you made it through spring and summer without a period is huge. Those are usually big triggers for women!" Which makes sense if you think about it biologically, as I try to do with all things, because I am just that scholarly.
- Writer Jenny convinced me that I needed to give The Women (which Brunie and I dissed during our annual movie marathon weekend) another chance, so I spent several hours with my wonderful friend in her gorgeously redone living room, watching a flawless print of this movie on a screen that's larger than my car, eating delicious appetizers. and drinking perfect Black Manhattans concocted by her magnificent husband, whose bartending skills are epic. The movie was delightful (though seriously, in those surroundings, how could it not be??), the Black Manhattans went down smoooooooth, I stayed for 17 hours, then came home and fell asleep in my own bathtub. I thought it was pretty funny, though Mrs. Cynicletary (when I told her the story) yelled at me for an hour and might have dropped the name "Whitney Houston" several times.
In any event: it was so much fun!!! Writer Jenny and I plan to do it again with many more classic movies (though, hmm, maybe at my house next time? Much less glammy than hers, for sure, but will I drink less if I have to make the drinks? Hard to say).
Probably I have more to say but I've been at this computer since 8 a.m. (it is now 6:30 p.m.), and it's time to look at something else.
And I must put it in writing: Writer Jenny was RIGHT, and I was WRONG. The Women is a perfect delight! I enjoyed it thoroughly, especially when my girls Paulette Goddard and Marjorie Main showed up. I "entertained" Jenny by telling her stories of what a diva Norma Shearer was and how mean she was to Carole Lombard, whom I adore, and Jenny patted my arm and said, "I think you need to let this go." Such a fun night! I can't wait to do it again. I've suggested Picnic, His Girl Friday, Idiot's Delight, and Rebecca — nothin' but good times ahead.
* Li'l Martini: I've decided what I want to do for my Sweet 16.
Me: Uh — become a girl?
** Every time we drive past that Starbucks now, Husband notes that that's where I threw up after my colonoscopy. Every. Single. Time.
After this one, he said, "Want me to take you to that Starbucks where you like to throw up?"