Veronica’s Still on Vacay

So, how’d that MRI go, when all was said and done?

Basically, everything went fine. The reading was all clear: no new areas of abnormality, so I’ve a clean bill of breast health till it’s time for my next mammogram.

The experience itself was, well, an experience.

Between last summer’s procedures and this latest scan, I’ve realized that I’m going to be spending time on the regular lying face down on medical tables with the girls hanging down through some sort of opening. Intellectually, I understand the use-value of this: gravity helps pull the breast tissue away form the rest of the chest wall, thereby making it easier to get a clear scan of the parts we’re wanting to scan.

Still, I feel as if some small part of my bodily dignity has died in this whole process, never to be resurrected again.

It is damn hard to feel like an empowered grown-up in this kind of set-up.

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Heard it In a Pop Song

I had two alternate post titles tonight:

Tom Jones makes everything sound dead sexy

or

Tom Jones is a lying liar

More on that reasoning later. For the nonce, let me me unveil yet another way in which I am hopelessly art-and-media obsessed.

I’ve talked many times about how important music is to me and my life, and I think I’ve mentioned now and again how I’m the kind of old school dinosaur who still buys a fair proportion of music on physical CDs. But have I ever mentioned exactly how prodigious my CD collection is?

I don’t have a precise count right now*, but my best guess is around 1,800 or so. Across lots of different artists and genres–classical, Broadway, jazz, hip-hop. And lots and lots of stuff in the pop/rock/r&b vein. Lots.

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Two Strikes

Well, as I feared and/or predicted, my dive into super-busyness did interrupt the blogging streak.

I’ll admit, I was kind of impressed with myself for getting Friday’s post up from the hotel room after a 4.5 hour drive from Boston to NYC. (Plus the last-minute housing crisis we had to negotiate, but that’s a story for another day.) But then, after a busy Saturday out-and-about, we decided to do something a little different and go out on the town!

Admittedly, it was to a game bar, so our #nerdcore rep remains intact. Still, after several hours of bar food, games and G&Ts, I just sort of forgot about blogging until we went lights out at around 11:30.*

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Over the Hill and In the Next Valley

I had my annual eye check-up yesterday. The annual eye check-up that I hadn’t gotten round to doing for 24 months or so. (I’m not sure whether the best 2-word explanation for that would be: Momma lazy or Momma workaholic.)

Anyhow, this appointment marked a bit of a sea change from previous ones. I walked into my two prior appointments saying much the same thing: “You’re gonna tell me I need bifocals, but I don’t want ’em on account of vanity.”*

This year, my attitude was different: “It’s finally time for me to get those progressives.”

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Taking this Show on the Road

The next ten days or so are going to be a true acid test for this new “write every day” pledge. We’ve got a quick weekend trip to see the Harry Potter Exhibit in NYC, and then the exact next day after getting home from that, I’m off for a six-day business trip.*

Ages ago, when I had a long vacation planned, I wrote a short series of things to auto-post while I was abroad. (Admittedly, the execution of that idea was a touch shaky, but hey: points for trying?) I’m sure the almost-daily ritual of me whining about not having a surplus of blogging ideas will give you a solid read on the current situation.

No, Virginia, I do not have any extra posts in the bank.

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Rambling (Wo)man

I assume it’s snowing out there by now. I can’t confirm with my own reportage, because I’ve spent most of the day in bed. Yes, that Creeping Crud came roaring in on all cylinders overnight, so my day has mostly been about sleeping, hydration, a bit of iPad gaming, trying to read and not having the clear-headedness for that, medication, more hydration, and yes, more sleeping.

Not exactly the kind of day brimming with writing material. But I don’t want to drag my achy, germ-ridden body across the house to get the “box o’ writing prompts,” either.

So what’s a gal to do?

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I Never Thought I’d Live Past 20 (Well, 30)

A friend of mine and fellow blogger* has, upon occasion referred to herself as an “unfunny feminist“–riffing on and mocking the dismissive “Can’t you take a joke?” bullshit that so often erupts when we dare to read some bit of cultural quote-unquote fun through an anti-kyriarchal lens, only to observe (quelle surprise!) that said fun isn’t really fun or funny, and instead just reinscribes some horrific piece of the miasma of misogyny in which we all soak daily.

Now, I’m not gonna steal my friend’s slogan from her, but I gotta say that I am definitely feeling the “unfunny feminist” vibe today. (Maybe I’ll call my own expression of this kind of sentiment the “Humourless Hag” chronicles.)

Continue reading “I Never Thought I’d Live Past 20 (Well, 30)”