isn’t that great news? yeah.

did i mention, that in addition to bronchitis, the worst allergies I’ve ever had in my life, a growing sense of “can we please be done with this now please, already?” about my novel (man am i sick of looking for typos, continuity blah blah and misc. plot debris)…

where was I going with this? yes. I had some tumor/growth/alien life force removed from my leg.

that’s why you stop by, right? for the gnarly health news? this wasn’t even gnarly, as these things go. This very beautiful girl doctor and her sweet and also beautiful assistant shoved me backwards on the table, shot up my leg with local anesthetic, and then I don’t even want to know what they did next. But it’s a week later and it’s still sore. Not bad sore — it’s healing up and all, but damn. You just never know what they’re going to do to you, once you step into that strange vortex known as The Doctor’s.

This is me at the doctor’s office. (Thank you, Tom Petty, for the visuals.)

it was just something I didn’t want to deal with and I finally did, yay me. Then I cried because it hurt and the doctor said, If it is malignant, we would need to… and then we’d… and general anesthetic and you’re strong and healthy and would do just fine with that, yes?

my response to that was: “No.” (See? See? Proof on my own blog.)

seriously, Internets. Unlike the rest of my deranged, high-strung extended family, I have extremely low blood pressure. I mean, it’s 90/60 on a good day. When I get sick/stressed/have just had surgery/am losing blood/haven’t had enough milkshakes or sweet potato pie/you name it, it dips to like, 70/47. Then the buzzers and bells start going off, whoop-whoop-aoooooooga! and they all get really excited and things get lively and I think, I am so glad I’m lying down for all this.

Then Steve says, “Even when it’s normal, it’s like, 90/60. She’s a freak, she’s fine.” And then they all simmer down. I can say the same thing, but they don’t listen to Almost-Dead Girl. But they will listen to Steve. Whatever.

Also my lungs have a hard time remembering to breathe. They just… don’t cooperate sometimes.

So I would prefer to never go under general anesthetic for the rest of my life. Also? Veins are collapsing due to Having Too Much Blood Taken for Thyroid Issues and Whatever Else the Vampires Wanted It For.

Hmm.

GOOD NEWS. I called for the test results and the very nice man gave me my favorite letter and my favorite number: B9. Benign!!! Get it? Which is just great, because you know what my favorite movie was when I was a young girl? Sunshine. You know what my favorite book was? (Next to “Wifey,” “Princess Daisy” and any other good smutty trash I could find)… that’s right. Norma Klein’s “Sunshine.” What happens in that book? That’s right. A beautiful teenage mom finds out she has Leg Cancer and her only options are 1) have it cut off or 2) have it cut off or 3) take meds and puke her guts out and then die, anyway.

When you are a teenage girl, this is the sort of book you want to re-read 200 times. So I did. Oh, and “Go Ask Alice.” Yes. So I think this has sort of been a lifelong fear, perhaps. That I will get leg cancer and have to choose between puking/then dying or having my leg amputated. I would choose… neither. I just wouldn’t go to the doctor, that’s how I would solve that one. But I did go to the doc, and all is well. And I’m done with antibiotics for bronchitis and seem to be on the mend. Good! Right on!

Beautiful, happy Friday to you.

— wm

ps in unrelated news, I just filed my first book review for my girls at BlogHer. It’s on “Getting to Happy,” Terry McMillan’s sequel to “Waiting to Exhale.” The review will run sometime this month — I’ll link when it does. (Link!) Will you go check out their site, pretty please? Good stuff on there, and lots of interesting women writing about things that won’t make you wince like I do. Ta-ta for now!

from my son:

“Did you ever go a-fishin’ on a sunny, sunny day/
sit on the bank/
’til the bank give away/
with your hands in your pockets/
and your pockets in your pants/
sit on the bank/
and do a hootchie-kootchie dance…”

(psst — wanna see a picture of our grumpy cat?)

American Idol gone wild.

Steve (hearts) Beyonce.

We have mourning doves up on our roof — they look just like this. No that’s not my picture, you know all I do is write, I don’t take pix, too. Unlike some of you overachievers out there. hahaha. They’re just chilling. They seem to like it here.

I’m fighting off bronchitis, my lungs are a mess. Fever (never a good sign) and the general feeling that if I just break on through (to the other side, break on through, break, break) (key word: break) that this time, I will not get bronchial pneumonia. I’m fine, see! Fine! (Then I collapse. Drama queen.)

Pam: “Would you like some aspirin? You seem kind of fussy…”
Michael: “No, I don’t want any aspirin! Aspirin’s not gonna do a dang thing, Pam. Of course I’m fussy! I’m sitting here with a bloody stump of a foot!”

I haven’t slept much in a week — for two nights I barely slept at all.

I, like many of you, get stupid as hell and confused when I don’t sleep. Also not safe behind the wheel of a car, fyi.

Last night, I knew I was going to sleep okay. (powerofpositivethinking.) Willed myself to. Curled up in a ball, made little kitten noises, and when I woke up, the sun was up (sleep! i love you, my friend sleep) and I could hear the mourning doves, right outside my window.

nice.

ps yes we’ve been watching American Idol. This is all you need, though.

updated on Saturday: ppss WAIT the RAPTURE is today? Thank God for my father-in-law and Bossy, otherwise I would never have known. Eh, I’m not sweating anything now, especially not this frickin’ fever. Wait, doesn’t a fever come right before the Rapture? I think it does.

What did that cabbie in New York say to me, that one time? “When the end of the world comes, there won’t be any more worrying about the trillion dollar debt, or AIDS, or the drugs, and you, princess, you will never have to work again.” I was all, “Good by me.” Then he gave me one of the best smiles I’ve ever seen in my life, and off he went.

Why Not Me? — the first Judds song I fell in love with. Along with the spandex.

“give it away give it away give it away now”

DONE writing final draft of novel, DONE. 330 pages, almost 100,000 words. Now the editors can take over, DONE. Also i gave up booze — will be three weeks this Sunday. Just in case you wanted a Nancy update.

“I Try” — Ben Taylor

and Ben’s dad, with Carole King.

and… the Queen of YouTube, folks, Ben’s mom, Carly Simon. (She fractures me on YouTube, go find some of the clips and watch them. She’s hilarious.)

Happy Mother’s Day, y’all. Enjoy the weekend.