It's the 6th. And I've done a ton of stuff already this year.
New Year's Eve, I slept in my house by myself, like a real grown up. After 40 days and 40 nights of sleepovers with Jude, I was finally well enough that we could both take a little break. Wahoo!
New Years Day, I had a TV marathon party with my sister and our friends Jane, Michael and Rafael. Oh, and tamales. TV and tamales. That's a good day!
Saturday, I went to brunch with some girls from home. Best gluten-free adventure ever! (Jewels Nakery, Phoenix Az)
Saturday afternoon, I spent some more quality time with my seester. Talking, laughing, crying. Followed by one of my favorite dinners at one of my favorite places (Waldorf salad @ CPK).
Sunday morning was spent with Steve, Sunday afternoon was spent on my couch, and Sunday dinner at Jo's was about the best spaghetti I've ever had.
Monday brought a lot more couch time. (I try to be productive, I really do. But even when I feel "good", I'm tired and the most ridiculous things wind me.) Monday evening, I learned a very difficult (but important) life lesson: I can't eat chips and salsa while I'm in a treatment cycle. (It was Dat 21, so I thought I'd be safe. Not so. My stomach doesn't want to kill me anymore, but my feet and hands are still swollen from sodium overload.) But at least we got a pic taken before the food sent me running home.
Tuesday was breakfast with Steve (I may have to break up with Village Inn. Not because their food was crappy. Please. Their hash browns are always awesome! Sadly, I had to use the facilities while I was there. It was horrifying. A mix of my memories of the pink girls' room at Taylor Elementary and every grotesque bathroom I've ever seen murdered (on TV) in a public restroom.) And then I saw my cancer shrink and acupuncturist and then Judy and I went to the movies with Jo and Roomie.
And now I'm sitting on a plane. Front row.
The perks of being able to play the cancer card. I was in a wheelchair all the way up to the gate, and now I have front row seating, so my feet can be up for the flight. Fingers crossed that'll be enough to keep my little piggies from swelling so much that I can't walk into Papa'so BBQ once we get to Houston, because this girl is craving a loaded baked potato, Texas style.