What is wrong with this picture?
There are far too many things wrong with this picture to list them all here.
I want to say - the worst part is that I was walking into this building for care for myself.
But the worst of all the bad parts about this picture is the fact that this building even has to exist!
My cousin sent me a lovely card, a booklet of Bible verses, and a $10 with my name on it.
Literally, my name was on it.
And a day or two later, my name was on a $10 bill in a Starbucks cash register not far from my house. Yum, yum!
I must confess that my taste is changing.
The salted caramel white mocha was too sweet for me to finish. Yup - I said it: too sweet!
Nope, that is not a typo. These taste buds of mine, they are a-changing.
Yours truly in her pre-surgical splendor early this morning.
The nurse anesthesiologist said it would feel like they were putting margaritas in my IV.
I should have told him that I prefer lemon drops -
and it felt like he pumped five or six of those bad boys directly into my vein.
Within 90 seconds of the injection... I woke up in recovery.
A few hours later, in the comfort of my own cozy bed. Port in place.
Gathering my strength, doing research on the internet, trying to learn everything I can
about hair loss, chemotherapy, surgery, radiation therapy...
and living a kanser-free life on the other side of all this.
On a much lighter note...
This photo caught my eye two weekends ago at my son's tennis tournament.
This sign was tacked onto the post of a pavillion at a local tennis park.
Seriously? A lost parrot? In a park?
We guessed that Blokie was already back in Africa, somewhere in the Caribbean,
or in the belly of a local owl.
How the heck could poor Olga think that someone would find
and then capture a lost parrot?