BIONIC!

I start with random: Michael Fassbender walked through my dream last night, and there was no sex involved. BRAIN FAIL. Still, it was a work dream. Even better, it was a work anxiety dream, in which I was seriously being walled out of my work, and he strolled through and in like a boss. And then I couldn't get in. TO MY WORK. And I also couldn't get in to where he was, so that I could stare at him when he wasn't looking and then act nonchalant if he glanced my way. (Isn't that what adults do when their movie-star crushes appear in front of them? I'm trying to be more adult.)

"Are you looking at me every time I look away?"

It was also sort of an adventure dream - "They're bricking up this entrance to the office, so let's look this way." At one point, I had to dangle off of a platform and then drop down to the floor below. Maybe if the dream had lasted longer, the Fassbender would have been a sort of prize for being dedicated enough to get into the office? On the OTHER hand, how did that bastard get into my work? He doesn't even work here, and I have a keycard! Bastard. Hottie bastard.

*~*~*~*

OK, now on to the REAL NEWS, AND YES, I FEEL SHOUTY ABOUT IT!

MY MOM IS GETTING ONE OF HER HIPS REPLACED ON FRIDAY!

 

Yes, it is finally, finally, finally starting to happen. She has been to a ton of doctor appointments all through September and October, and it is finally time to get this started. We already have a contingency plan for bringing Diet Pepsi once the surgery is over, because my mom is addicted, and I definitely don't want to see what Diet Pepsi withdrawal looks like. 

 

I took Friday and Monday off so that I could be down there with her. She has to do rehab, and they'll try to get her out of bed as soon as possible. We all know that this won't be an overnight recovery - she hasn't been able to walk without hip pain for several years. But it's gonna be awesome. It's all gonna be so awesome. She's going to do her physical therapy, and in about 6 more months, the other hip will be replaced, and then she'll do more physical therapy.

 

My hope is that, by this time next year, mom will be chasing us kids around and beating on us for all of the rude stuff we said when she couldn't catch us. Hopefully she won't still have the cane on hand.