Can one month contain such fabulousness?
Grilled Cheese Month, National Poetry Month, the Dining with Friends Dinner, AND my birthday? ~whew~ I get exhausted just thinking about all of those fun things.
By the way, there's been an update to the Hamzilla Incident. Be sure to check it out. You never know if you might be able to help.
In addition to all of the fun and excitement of the above mentioned events, I've also had a little bit of my own personal drama to deal with these days. In the past, I've kind of shut down and stopped blogging for a while when life gets difficult. I'm not doing that this time. I, also, don't share too much deeply personal stuff. Mostly, I like to keep it random and, hopefully, interesting and not like a "Dear Diary" kind of blog.
I could procrastinate this all night but I won't. You get a two-fer this evening. Not only have I written a poem to properly acknowledge National Poetry Month, I'm also putting out* a little bit of personal info.
I live in Alabama
But I swear I’m not a rube
Yet I find it important
To write a poem to my boob.
Mammograms are quite awkward
The ultrasound showed stuff, too
A week of doctor visits
They decided what to do
My left boob has a problem
The surgeon has made a slit
He went in there to find out
What is wrong with that left tit.
I admit I’m quite nervous
Biopsies just are not fun
The waiting’s even harder
But the waiting must be done
The path lab has the sample
They will do their tissue test
Then Dr. Boob will call me
I will keep you all… abreast.
If you pray, please do. Light candles, do interpretive dance, get your mojo rising, wish on a star, stare at the lint in your navel while pondering the meaning of life and boobies, whatever. Please think positive thoughts. I hope to have results tomorrow.
*Calm down, Jeremy. It's not that kind of putting out.