Poetry Friday Word for Tomorrow

I have to leave in 5 minutes to take the kids to the dentist, so this will be brief.

The Poetry Friday Word for tomorrow is GIRL.

Hasta manana!

Ain't Nuthin' but a Horn Dog

Two weeks.

I have two weeks until The Mister and I can engage in connubial bliss.

Sigh.

El Doctoro must first check out my girly bits, give me a wink and thumbs up, and send me back into the front lines of unbridled Hot Wet Monkey Sex. I can't wait.

I've been having very lifelike dreams since the surgery. Mostly sexy ones. The one last night involved me as a porn star with one of those CPR dummies at full mast. I woke up drippy and confused...how could I run the camera AND star in the damn film?

It doesn't help that I have become unfortunately addicted to stupid reality tv shows where sex seems to be the main ingredient.

Plus now 19-year old boys are starting to get my juices flowing. I'm so ashamed.

And so gooshy.

I'm BAAAACK!

Yes, the surgery is over, and the healing has begun! I haven't been in much of a blogging mood lately to update y'all, but I hope you have all checked with Sergei and found me to be in good health. I've started blog posts in my head for the past two weeks, but haven't had the gumption or wherewithall or energy to actually sit down and write. Some days are good, some are painful, and I've never relished naps so much in my life (save for that baby/toddler period).

Here's what I can tell you.

1) The surgery went very well. The doctor was pleased afterwards. My follow-up appointment a week after the surgery led him to exclaim, "Beautiful! That's healing nicely." And then he did a little 'I rock' dance.

2) I still can hardly bear to look at the scar/incision, though. It's huge. BUT, if I should ever drop 40 pounds and be brave enough to wear a bikini in public (hehheh, I spelled it 'pubic' first), I can prance around gleefully, knowing that no one can see the scar.

3) My body does not like pain meds. For the first 24 hours after the surgery, I was sick from the pain medicine (Delaudid). Nauseous. Throwing up. Head spinning like I was drunk. Did it suck? HELLS YEAH! I knew I couldn't take Vicodin or Darvocet, based on past experience. So after they took me off the Delaudid, they put me on Tylenol 3. Which was okay for the first, oh, 24 hours. THEN it made me totally high. Seeing trails. Putting my foot on the bed rail so I didn't spin out of it. HIGH. Then I told them, look, just give me Motrin. And they did. 600 mg tabs as big as my pinkie. And that worked. And I puked no more. Dammit, but I'd make a terrible junkie.

4) Daytime television SUCKS. I mean, I have hundreds of channels to choose from, but the pickin's is slim. I can only watch so many cooking shows, or What Not To Wear shows, or How It's Made shows before I start sticking forks in my eyeballs.

5) Sergei is the awesome-est awesome mate. He's catered to my whims like I'm the Queen of Sheba. Done all the housework. Groceries. Yard work. Dealt with our current house-falling-apart issues (pests, plumbing, locks). I think I owe him something. (wink wink) Sex is set to resume in a few weeks, after the doc okays the healing. I can't wait. I've been having wet dreams in anticipation.

6) I never...EVER...have to have another period. WOOHOO!!!!!!! I'm so frikkin' excited I squirt pee just thinking about it. ("Squirt pee" being of my own volition, and not some repercussion of the surgery.)

7) I get to spend more time with the kids this summer. They still go to their day camp 2 or 3 days a week, to have fun and see their friends...'cause let's face it, I certainly don't have the energy yet to take them to the water park or the art museum or rock climbing. I can hobble around, I can walk for brief periods, I can sit with them and do crafts and rent movies and teach them how to make their own lunch. We be chillin' this summer, and it feels real good.

8) I'm off work til after Labor Day. On paid leave. How cool is that? I love my job. Truly.

9) Now that I'm home during the day, I'm shocked and amazed by how many telemarketing calls we get. I don't even bother to answer the phone any more. When I DO answer, thinking it might be Sergei or the kids' camp, or one of my friends who said they'd check up on me, I lie to the telemarketer and say, No, there is no Mona here. If I want a satellite dish, dammit, I'll make the call. Until then, take me off yer damn list.

10) There probably won't be a Poetry Friday Word from me this week, 'cause something happened with the surgery, something where my urge to write left for a while. I'm surprised I got this far in the blog post and managed to string together fairly cohesive sentences. I'm just...well...tired, I suppose, and haven't been out in the world to have much to say about anything. Except, you should all watch "Scott Baio is 45 and Single", which is a big ol' hoot.

11) Sergei and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary last weekend. We went out to dinner with the kids. I was totally out of ideas for gifts, as was he, so we didn't do 'em. Just the pleasure of his company and his naked antics are enough for me.

12) I've been reading a lot lately. Got 8 or 10 books done, and working on two more, simultaneously. Have stacks yet to attack, but feel good about taking 'me' time to just read.

13) I'll be around to your blogs soon. What have you been up to lately?