I think they're just fucking with me.

River
Lake
Shore
Rock
Home
Meat
Silence
Concept
Pleasure
Book
Window
Life

MS tests are weird, you guys. I don’t know any better way to put it than that. Apparently though, I am really good with words. Not so good with numbers. Let me set the scene for you.

I was down at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania (HUP from now on, because I will not be typing that more than I need to) for my initial screening to see if I would qualify for a drug trial. (long story short there, I qualify; I have MS. Yay? I dunno, let’s just call it a second opinion and move on.) Part of the initial visits is a battery of cognitive tests. The initial ones are just “practice” so that you are familiar with the format... helps eliminate the “learning curve”, so that the “real” test can be compared with future tests over the next two years.

Fine. Let’s do this.

First test: (I don’t remember any of the names of these, so mine will be the more appropriate descriptive names) “Put the pegs in the holes. Take the pegs out of the holes. Quickly!” So yeah, that was basically all that one was. And I didn’t drop any. Guess I passed.

Second test: “Remember a random list of words and repeat them back.” Dude, I owned this test. Seriously. 12 words, I remembered all but three. Second try? I got them all. You have 6 tries total and even if you get them all right, you keep doing it for six times. So then I was mixing it up for my own amusement... can I put them in a different order? Sure I can!

Home
Meat
Rock
Shore
Book
Window
Life
Pleasure
Silence
Concept
Lake
River

I rock. Bring it baby, I’m ready.

Third test: “Checkerboard mind-fuck.” You look at this grid pattern for 10 seconds. On this grid, are 7 black circles. After studying it for 10 seconds, you then have to duplicate the spacing using checkers and a blank grid.

Bam. All 7, right spots.

Do it 3 more times? Okay!

Done.

Done.

And done.

But then, they show you an alternate checkerboard. You sneaky bastards. Study that one for 10 seconds and do the same thing. A little harder this time, as I was consciously trying to forget what I had just committed to memory to remember something else that was similar enough to be confusing.

(that sentence is confusing.)

Still, got it right, first try and the second try. Next?

Replicate the first pattern, without looking at the original prompt.

Whaaaaaaa...?

Fuck. Way to go sneaky cognitive guys. And not funny, messing with the MS girl like that. I don’t know how many I got right. The examiner didn’t tell me. That must be in the instructions somewhere... “If they do well, offer praise. If they do poorly, just quietly put the test away and move on.”

Fourth test: “Chinese water torture.... but with numbers.” Okay, let me try to explain this. There’s this CD, with this annoyingly calm and monotone guy throwing a single digit number at me every 5 seconds. I’m supposed to listen to the number, add it to the previous number, and state the sum out loud, meanwhile bearing in mind the last number, because I will have to add that to the next number.

Sounds simple enough... right?

ACMG: Five....

ACMG: Three....

Me: Eight.

ACMG: Seven....

Me: Ten.

And so on and so on... for sixty numbers. I did okay for the first 30, but by the last 30 I was apparently misadding things and adding the second number to the sum of the last two numbers and all kinds of other things. It only made my brain hurt to a moderate degree.

Apparently that wasn’t the worst of the hell though.

Next, we were going to do the same thing, but with only a 2 second pause between the numbers.... again, for 60 numbers.

ACMG: Six....

ACMG: Two....

Me: Eight!

ACMG: (talking over me, how rude!) Seven....

Me: ....

ACMG: Five....

Me: Nine! No! Wait that wa...

ACMG: Six....

Me: Shit!

ACMG: Four....

Me: Ten!

ACMG: Two....

Me: .....

ACMG: Nine....

Me: Apricot!

ACMG: Three....

Me: ....

ACMG: Two....

Me: FIVE!!

ACMG: One....

Me: GREEN!

ACMG: Seven....

Me: (hands over ears...)

ACMG: One....

Me: stop talking to me!!!!!

Seriously... that’s almost entirely how it went.... except the desire to yell out random words instead of numbers was just filled by deafening silence on my part because I didn’t want the woman conducting the test to think I had tourrettes as well as MS. But I did put my hands over my ears at one point... I couldn’t help myself... I needed to check for blood because I was sure this specific brand of torture was designed just for me... and it was working....

Fifth test: “Are-you-fucking-kidding-me-with-these-twelve-words-again??!?!?” No repeating this time... just me, remembering what they were....

River
Lake
Shore
Rock
Home
Meat
Pleasure
Silence
Book
Window
Concept
Life

HA!!! Take THAT evil cognitive tests master minds!!

(I am, at this point, beginning to drool and my eye was twitching... I’m pretty sure, anyway...)

Sixth test: “SERIOUSLY-with-the-checkers-again???!?!” Yeah... the first pattern, not the second, no prompts... I got 1 out of 7 right.... and I don’t have the faintest clue which one it was....

Seventh test: “Walk in a straight line as quickly as you can.”

....... ?

(Seems rather anticlimactic, doesn’t it?)


UPDATED: After the second battery of "test" tests, the clinicians keep telling me how well I am doing on these cognitive assessments. However, as I was leaving the hospital today, I made a wrong turn and got hopelessly lost. I think that begs to differ people.

Awkwardly Awesome.

One might think that, in order to plan and host your 15 year high school reunion, you'd have to fall into one of two categories in order to want to tackle such an undertaking:

1. Formerly mega-popular high school class president/cheerleader/prom queen

2. Formerly not mega-popular high school class president/cheerleader/prom queen, but now ridiculously successful and fabulous.

If so, one would be wrong. Case in point? I planned our 15 year high school reunion.

Yeah, that's right, me.

Who was I in high school? Basically no one... I'm pretty sure the invisible people don't get elected prom queen or class president... and really? I had all the grace of a drunken donkey. No one was making a cheerleader out of me.

Who am I now? Well.... that's actually a good question.

I still have the grace of a drunken donkey.... except I am actually drunk.... quite often anyway.... but now I blame all the tripping on the MS. I have one marriage under my belt and I'm now on my second. (though doing quite better with this one, thank you very much) One failed business under my belt as well - totally on to a second (personally fulfilling but poorly paying) career. I have an extra 40 pounds or so, a shit ton of debt and no assets to speak of, a neurological disease, but, a beautiful daughter....

Mix well, serve over ice...

(I mean, true, you have to add a splash of charm and a bit of snark in there... but that's the basic recipe.)

I was so shy in high school. I wanted to be cool. I wanted to be pretty. I wanted boys to fall all over themselves over me. I wanted to be smart. I wanted to be funny and charming and graceful. I wanted to be talented.

I was, instead, awkward, self-conscious, and completely unaware. I was smart, but not as naturally brilliant as some of my classmates. I was talented, but not like my incredibly naturally gifted friends. I was pretty, but not in the "guys falling all over themselves" kind of way. I was funny, but always afraid that people were laughing at me, not with me. I was as graceful as a drunken donkey. (but we already covered that...)

However, as each former classmate showed up, I found myself to be not at all self-conscious. I wasn't worried about the 40 extra pounds (or the fact that I was sweating like a whore in church (it was hot as hell you guys!)) as I hugged each one and met their spouse or significant other or children. I chatted with everyone I could, as much as I could, and really enjoyed the whole day that I had managed to pull together, with those who had managed to join me.

The thing was, as I sat among these people, so of whom I can't say I even knew in high school, I realized that none of us were who we were in high school... and, in some cases (maybe most? all?), I don't think we ever even were who we thought we were in high school. (confusing much? yes.) And as much as it mattered then? That was how much it didn't matter now.

I was having flashes of The Breakfast Club playing in my head. (because, really, it's a great movie.... and a welcome change from the Dora the Explorer episodes that seem to play there on a regular basis....)



And what did we learn from The Breakfast Club? That's right:

"Dear Mr. Vernon, we accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. What we did *was* wrong. But we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us... In the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain... and an athlete... and a basket case... and a princess... and a criminal...

Does that answer your question?... Sincerely yours, the Breakfast Club."

And what *else* did we learn from The Breakfast Club? Right again:

The jocks and the bad boys always get the girls. The nerds are just badass writers.... and apparently drink a lot later in life.

Thanks for spending that saturday in detention with me you guys. I look forward to doing it again in 5 years.... or sooner.

I don't know why people even associate with me.

This is a transcript of an email conversation with a friend of mine, following one of my "I'm-trying-to-plan-a-15-year-class-reunion-will-you-cut-me-a-break-and-send-a-freaking-reply?!?!" emails.

Any identifying details will be protected.... because, really? I need to keep the friends I have. Especially those who let me email with them like this.... though I will never understand why.


Friend who will remain nameless (mostly because I doubt she would want to admit association with me):

You are totally killing me with this... ahhhhh.....

And, really: don't you miss me?

Ugh. I am SO put out right now…

A reunion... perfect place to display my newly acquired case of adult acne. Awesome. Maybe the sun will be shining brightly enough to illuminate my gray... or should I say "silver" hairs... as well as my pasty cellulite... I have to work myself up to even RSVP'ing.

We might be moving across the street from *yeah, like I’m going to out someone else on here* :) On *road which I will not be mentioning* ... keep your fingers crossed!


Me:

OMG I miss you so much!!! Did you delete your FB page???

What. The. Fuck.

Come back.

Okay, *same road that I won’t be mentioning, again*? Awesome, you're actually even closer! I approve. We can meet down by the bridge and drink under it. Because really? Isn't that where winos go? Under bridges? Or is that just trolls...? Meh, either way.

My adult acne will bond with yours. Seriously. Even my back is broken out. Which is lovely. It's like being a teenager again. Except without the fun stuff about being a teenager. Of course, at least now I can drink (legally) until I feel better about it.

AND, I have not only NOT lost any weight, but I apparently found about 5 pounds that someone else must have misplaced.

Yep, sounds like the perfect time for a reunion! ;-)


My dear sympathetic friend:

We (meaning those of us who try to make lightly of the fact that we can't wear tank tops & must keep our hair long enough to cover blemishes on our backs), call that: Bacne.

And, Yes - I have it: I even recruited some sort of a"tool" to try to pop them: doesn't work. Just makes me look like a meth head tweaker who has poison coming out of their pores all over.

Tweakerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr


Me (I swear to god, I wasn't drinking):

Damn. And I just cut my hair short again. No more tank tops for me. Clearly I do NOT think these things through enough.

In a separate, but somehow related, matter: I completely destroyed my va-jay-jay this morning.

You see, here's how it happened. I got a little over-zealous with the grooming the other day. The result? Crazy, insane, can't-stop-wanting-to-scratch-my-girlie-parts, itching whilst the hair grows back in. My solution? I'm going to try Nair. I mean, really? How much worse could it be?

So. Much. Worse.

Can you say chemical burns? Yeah. So while it left the little bits of hair completely intact, it inflamed everything else surrounding said hair. And still didn't solve the itchy-crotch problem.

So, cut to me in the shower, deciding that I would still shave to rid myself of the hair - again, because clearly I didn't learn the first time, but I seriously can't handle the hair growing back in!

Post shower? Looks like the crater pocked surface of the moon. You know, if the surface of the moon was red and swollen from chemical burns and the craters were filled with blood. BLOOD. Okay, so maybe it looked more like a completely unappetizing strawberry, sans those annoying seeds that always end up getting stuck in your teeth.

Wait, what was I talking about....?

Ugh, it's going to be a long day.


Friend (who is now wondering why she ever replied to me in the first place):

Soooo funny! But… wait; not funny at the same time. I think it's the power plant. Fa real.

Just a heads up: don't even bother trying that infomercial thing that allegedly just "sands" the hair off: it works good for a mustache: but, that's even debatable at this point. Certainly doesn't work on my chin hair: still need to pluck those bitchez.

I am so not hot.

What happened?

And, really: What pants are you wearing today? I am sitting here cracking up (mean, I know) at the thought of the discomfort you must be feeling at work. Hopefully you put a little baby powder ....or Neosporin on the strawberry moon :)


Me (because I take over-sharing to a whole new level):

In all my infinite wisdom? I wore light tan pants. I keep checking for little spots of blood. Which would be bad, clearly, as then I would have to tie my sweater around my waist backwards and try to convince my cadets that it's totally hip. Except I don't think people say "hip" anymore, so they will have no idea what I'm talking about.

Yeah.

I also wore really cute but uncomfortable shoes. Thinking, naturally, that the pain in my feet would distract me from the pain in my panties.

Epic. Fail.


*Post-Script: This email chain was like a month ago. All is well in the nether regions, so you can save your "get well" cards.... though I doubt Hallmark covers these sort of issues. Our class reunion is in two days and I have somehow managed to find another 5 or 7 (okay, fine, 10) pounds. I have a feeling it was hiding in the wine. I am now wondering if I can show up to the party in a burqa without raising too many questions. Hmmm....

Bittersweet.

"It is indeed ironic that we spend our school days yearning to graduate and our remaining days waxing nostalgic about our school days."

~Isabel Waxman

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

~Attributed to Mark Twain, unconfirmed

"I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read and all the friends I want to see."
~John Burroughs

"Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these."

~Susan B. Anthony

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop to look around once in a while you could miss it."

~From the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off

"You can't live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you."

~John Wooden

"To change one's life: Start immediately. Do it flamboyantly. No exceptions."

~William James

"The true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit."

~Nelson Henderson

"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are."
~e.e. cummings

"Do not follow where the path may lead. Go, instead, where there is no path and leave a trail."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember."

~Seneca

"The rung of a ladder was never meant to rest upon, but only to hold a man's foot long enough to enable him to put the other somewhat higher."

~Thomas Henry Huxley

"The language of friendship is not words but meanings."

~Henry David Thoreau

"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same."

~Flavia Weedn

"I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next."

~Gilda Radner

(good luck, my boys.)

Recently.

I have been way too busy. Too busy to blog, actually. That's not to say that there hasn't been stuff that's blogworthy. Just a sampling of what's up? Allow me to offer you the Reader's Digest version:

• I have an insanely awesome family that I don't see often enough.
  
  

• There was this killer wedding. On a bridge.

• It led to an equally killer night. A night that didn't end until the next morning.

• I chopped my hair off. I love it.

• I love my cadets. I just hate my job.

• There was an MS Walk. It was humid and hot as hell. It rocked.

And in other, less pictorial, news....

• I love yoga. Who knew?
• I love tattoos even more. One down, a bunch more to go.
• I love my friends. I hate false friends. They make me more cynical. Fuck them.
• I still need to go on a diet.
  

(The longer version of the above events follows..... feel free to not read it.... unless you're really lacking in anything else to do on a Sunday night.)

So my cousin got married in Pittsburgh many weekends back and it was epic. The whole evening. First? They closed down the Roberto Clemente bridge to have their ceremony right in the middle at sunset - complete with fireworks as they kissed. It was beautiful. No wedding will ever compare in sheer originality - barring anyone getting married on the edge of a volcano. Complete with a virgin sacrifice, of course. (which clearly will be no one from my side of the family.)

Reception followed - complete with a photobooth. Which, of course, held no interest for me whatsoever until I was good and lit up. Then? No holds barred. And lots of kissy-face photos. Apparently I have cheek bones that way. Who knew they were there? I will now be making crazy kissy-faces in all photos. Ever. I've never been appropriate anyway.

At some point we ended up on the roof which we were not supposed to be on. I totally did not ruin my heels on all the stones that were up there. Since we weren't ever there in the first place. But seriously? Wow. Ruined. And totally worth it. If I was a dude? I would have been peeing off the edge with the others. Although we were never there. So I know nothing of which I speak.

There was a stumbling walk back to the very fancy, upscale, hotel a few blocks away, laden down with the leftover liquor that was remaining. (I mean, hey, can't let that go to waste!) ((anyone have any clue what the fuck to do with a bottle of Vermouth??)) I took my nylons off in the fancy lobby and stuffed them in the cushions of the very impressive looking lobby couches. (my apologies to whoever found them.... if they have been found...) Someone called a cab - I'm guessing the front desk guy who wanted the seven drunks out of his lobby at 4am? - and we were off to Primanti Bros.

Cut to many sandwiches, fries, and an hour+ later, we're yelling at the douche-canoe cabbie who wouldn't let us all pile in one car, and we're hoofing it back to the other end of the city. Or it may have been just a few blocks. Hell if I know. Fortunately another cabbie with a van picked us up and saved us from walking all night. Or morning, as it was now roughly 6am. Fall into bed, asleep by 7am, awake by 9am. Thanks Nate. So glad your alarm on your phone was so super effective. For me. ;-)

My family really does rock. I have so many awesome cousins who are each completely awesome in their own unique way - and yet there is one common thread that binds us all together. That thread? Alcohol. Oh, and food. We are greek after all. I love them all with all my heart. And I can't wait to see them again. They make me feel whole.

In other news, I chopped my hair off. After years of having it midway down my back, it's now hanging out somewhere between my chin and shoulders. And I love it. I've realized that with the right amount of product and time? I have really great hair. The odd thing is, I have received many compliments from my female friends.... and much dislike from my male friends. (well, those who know me well enough to be honest anyway.) So, I am thinking this is one of two things. Either, it looks good and the women know it (because clearly they have better taste than men), OR, it looks horrid, and all my women friends are catty bitches who love that I have bad hair. Really, it could go either way. No matter what, men seem to like long hair better. Duh. It's clearly a caveman thing.

I don't care. I'm keeping it short. For now anyway. It's sort of badass, despite the picture above not conveying all it's 50's bombshell-esque glory.

It's now early May. Which means soon my seniors will graduate and leave to carry on with the beginnings of their "adult" life, and I will miss them all terribly. It has been an awful year and a wonderful year all at the same time - most of the wonderful coming from my boys. I truly love being "cadet-mom" to many dozen teenage boys. How could you not love them? I really don't know how. I will miss them.

They supported me in my MS walk this year. The walk was actually today, so I guess this brings us up to speed. While only a few were able to be there with me, many were with me in spirit, and it was a great day. Add to that my friends, coworkers, and family, and we had over 40 people walking with team "holes in my brain". In bright pink shirts. My cadets picked the color. Yes, seriously. They are, apparently, comfortable in their masculinity and in pepto pink. They never fail to amuse and inspire me. (I will remember this the next time they push me to my breaking point.)

I've also discovered that I really like yoga. No, I think I love it a little. There is definitely a serious crush going on anyway. I didn't think I would like it. I thought I was just doing it to try to improve some of my MS impacted balance issues. I didn't expect it to keep me from being so hateful and stabby all the time. It's probably saved at least one person from getting a bic pen straight into their forehead on a bad day. It is also a weekly reminder that I need a pedicure.

(I do still need a pedicure.)

I did, however, get my first tattoo. It was just a small one, on the outside of my right thigh, just above my knee - the site of my first numb spot.... which was conveniently not numb the day of the inking. But the pain was far less than I was expecting. My daily injections are actually worse, I think. I now plan on getting the one on my back done within the next few weeks. I may have to come back and reread this when that one hurts way worse than my leg did. Still? Totally worth it. I already have ideas for three more after my back. (go big or go home, right?)

Also? I love my friends. My true friends. Those who love and have stood by me - near and far - through good times and MS times and just plain ugly hysterical times. I've recently come to realize that someone who I thought was among those friends, is not. It took me about 20 months to realize that a pattern of disregard for my feelings was not merely an oversight on his part but a callous lack of caring. Which, really, I suppose was not actually his fault if he never really cared for me to begin with - it may have been my misunderstanding right from the start - as I don't usually find myself in a position of having to cynically evaluate someone's intentions.... but.... now that I know better? He can kiss my fat white ass.

The only kind thing I have to say at this point is that people like him? Make me realize the value of people who are not like him. I will not let this effect my innate nature. I will continue to love others openly and without reserve or fear of being hurt or taken for granted. And I will not take my friends for granted. I am blessed. And there is no room for him in my life. My cup runneth over.

And so does my waistband, unfortunately. I really do need to drop some weight and focus on getting my health back on track.

So, with that, I will finish my drink and get to bed.

Goodnight all.

I heart the 80's.

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you
That I almost believe that they're real
I've been living so long with my pictures of you
That I almost believe that the pictures are
All I can feel

Remembering
You standing quiet in the rain
As I ran to your heart to be near
And we kissed as the sky fell in
Holding you close
How I always held close in your fear

Remembering
You running soft through the night
You were bigger and brighter and whiter than snow
And screamed at the make-believe
Screamed at the sky
And you finally found all your courage
To let it all go

Remembering
You fallen into my arms
Crying for the death of your heart
You were stone white
So delicate
Lost in the cold
You were always so lost in the dark

Remembering
You how you used to be
Slow drowned
You were angels
So much more than everything
Hold for the last time then slip away quietly
Open my eyes
But I never see anything

If only I'd thought of the right words
I could have held on to your heart
If only I'd thought of the right words
I wouldn't be breaking apart
All my pictures of you

Looking so long at these pictures of you
But I never held on to your heart
Looking so long for the words to be true
But always just breaking apart
My pictures of you

There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to feel you deep in my heart
There was nothing in the world
That I ever wanted more
Than to never feel the breaking apart
All my pictures of you

Once upon a time.

He looked at me, with a grin that was more of a smirk, and said, "I have a lot of friends.... none of them are quite like you."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I think so."

....................................................

"Ask me if I'm going to miss you," he said, as he cocked his head to the side.

"Are you going to miss me while you're gone?"

"Yes."

Same smirky grin.

....................................................

Sadly, I haven't seen that smirky grin in awhile.

And you can't embrace a friend while keeping them at arm's length.

Goodbye, my friend. I'll miss you.

And I hope, this time, you'll miss me as well.

Xanax and Wine - party of one?

So many days in a row of feeling bad.... I can't even differentiate between them.

How is it only Wednesday? Surely the breakdown I had this afternoon was worthy of a Friday breakdown..... but no. I made it there in record time.

Of course, I did spend two days all but couch-ridden. (I refuse to be bed-ridden.... bed-ridden seems so much worse.) How did I not see the follow-up emotional tidal wave coming at me? It's like I have selective vision.

And yet, despite my lack of foresight (or maybe because of it?) there I was - caught up in it's undertow, powerless to swim against the current.

(I know, I'm so melodramatic. It's the wine. and Xanax.)

((my apologies.))

The neat and tidy version? I couldn't stop crying.

The whole way home.

I was actually on my way to yoga. But how can one do yoga when one can't catch their breath through the hitching sobs?

Yep. No yoga.

Wine, instead.

Not enough strength for the warrior pose.

Plenty of strength to lift a glass.


(advantage: wine.)

Yesterday.

(Disclaimer: you likely will not understand this post if you were born anytime after 1980. Just saying.)

Started feeling bad towards the end of the day... was wiped out by the time I got home... stuck on the couch ever since...

Some days I just want to lay down and die...

Remember the movie "The Never Ending Story"? The horse who gave in to the swamps of despair and sunk to his death? Atreyu?

Yeah, I get that horse.

"Atreyuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!"

*UPDATED*: Okay, so my jumbled childhood memories may have had this a bit wrong.... whilst food shopping on Sunday (because who doesn't do their best thinking while pushing a cart full of food, listening to muzak and crying children, and dodging other half awake/half irrate shoppers?) it suddenly occurred to me that - I think - the warrior character was Atreyu and his horse was Artax. Possibly.

Shit.

"Artaaaaaaaaaaxxxxxxx!"

Maybe it's the endorphins that make me less murder-y.

So it's Friday - 7:50 pm - and I managed to make it through another week that was not only personally exhausting but insanely busy at work.

And I didn't murder anyone.

(true story.)

Did I want to? Yes, of course. Did I cry unintentionally and have to hide in my office for fear someone would see me and think "oh, there goes the MS girl gettin all worked up again!"? Um, yes, but only two or three times. Did I drink myself into a coma? Actually, no.

(yeah, go back and reread that, it's not a typo.)

On a seperate, but likely related note, I started yoga last week and have been trying to take more walks. Maybe I have the endorphins to thank for the lack of dead bodies that could have been strewn about? I mean, it certainly wasn't the alcohol. Which is sort of shocking in and of itself.

But, just in case - and not to throw off the balance of the universe - I am going to head out now and get stupid drunk.

Because really? I can't take a chance on these endorphins quite yet.

Cheers.