I received so many loverly emails, comments and phone calls after my last post that I felt like quite the wallowmeister. I'll admit I had a couple of bad days where I was cursing the c-dawg for visiting me and staying way too long. Sometimes I give in to the greater challenge that a couple of big lumps present and play out the scenarios for much too long.
The thing that gets me sometimes is that I look at my girls and think, I don't want a stripper raising them! Not that Pete would ever marry a stripper after my exit... maybe date one, but he'd probably marry some burgeoning film producer or accomplished novelist or some other such successful beyotch. And then I'd have to spend the afterlife haunting her ass. But after I come to my senses a little I realize that life is messy, none of us know what's around the corner, and for me to spend more than a moment dwelling on the potential cancer spread and all it could take away is completely missing the point of this whole exercise.
So thank you, my peeps, for all the support, and please know that I will continue to fill my bod with the green meds, visualize this beast taking a permanent hike, and try to be in the moment with Frances and Stella as much as I can without getting too 7th Heaven about it all. And if the stripper enters our lives eventually, at least I'll know the girls will potentially bring a new skill into adulthood.
Carissa, if you ever finish up with Telus, you could be the stripper Pete is married to. Remember how you excelled at our pole-dancing class :-)
ReplyDeleteYou naughty, naughty girl, M. But shhh... that's my secret weapon!
ReplyDeleteHmmm pole dancing ... I remember you taking that course! I also remember being a little envious that I have never done that ... now, the only good thing about me upside down on a pole would be that all my skin would go up to my head and I would have no sags any more!!
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