That time they severed my heeeeed

Ok, so this one time way back in April we're both studying and I look up and Joel's squinting at me like he does sometimes and I'm all, What?  And he's like, You have an Adam's apple and I'm all Dude, I do NOT have an Adam's apple.
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But it turns out that I sort of did.  And we had no family doctor at the time so it took a while to get one, and then she poked and prodded my apple and was all, Ehhh, I'm not concerned but I'll send you for an ultrasound.  And the ultrasound people ultrasounded it and were all, Ehhh, we're not concerned but we're going to send you to an endocrinologist for a biopsy.  And then the endocrinologist stuck some needles in my neck and I did not like it.

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ANYways, the results came back suspicious but inconclusive which means that it may or may not be cancer, but that even if it is cancer, it's what they call an 'indolent' cancer which is the opposite of an 'aggressive' cancer.  So!

Tuesday night we had steaks, and then considered night-nachos because I wasn't allowed to eat after midnight, and while we were considering night-nachos we fell asleep.  We are not made for this sort of lifestyle.

Wednesday morning Joel takes me down to the hospital and they whisk me off right away to the Patient Storage Locker, which is big and square and full of people lying in beds either bored or unconscious.  And they give me one of those little nighties that opens in the back which I totally put on wrong at first, and also a skeezy robe and some booties, one of which is broken.
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And then Ridiculously Kind Nurse #1 keeps bringing me toasty blankets straight from the little blanket oven where they keep them warm (no jokes) and checking to see how I'm doing but other than that I'm just lying there in my little crib for close to two hours watching an orderly change the sheets.

And then like eight people come by one at a time to ask me all the same questions about who I am and if I have any allergies and what my birthday is and whether I understand the procedure that's going to be done to me and I'm tempted to make jokes about it still being me in this bed but I get that they're just doing their jobs and trying to make sure that no one accidentally goes in after, say, one of my kidneys by accident.  Plus, every time someone comes by I'm all, Yay, a person!  I WILL ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS!

And then Ridiculously Kind Nurse #2 comes to bring me into the OR Patient Storage Locker and I'm all, Wheeee, something is happening!  And she's like, Ahhh, not so fast.  You're probably just going to have to wait in there for a while, and also, I'm going to need to take your glasses now.

So I end up waiting in there for another half hour only now I'm blind, and then the surgeon comes by to ask me if I understand the procedure and to please indicate the lump for him and then he scribbles on me with some marker and leaves.  The man is seriously a robot.

And then the anesthesiologist comes by and looks vaguely like Joel and this is comforting, except that I haven't got my glasses on so he could really look like Charo for all I can tell.  ANYway, I give him a heads up that needles make me faint, and he says that if I can go ahead and faint I'll be doing half his job for him.  He is pleasant and I like him.

And then Ridiculously Kind and Probably Not That Much Older Than Me Nurse #3 comes to wheel me into the OR and introduces me to the three other Nurses in the room as though I were a pal of hers and not just some specimen they were going to dissect, and then I'm on the table and they're all fussing around me and sticking things to me and it's like being at the spa but less relaxing.

And then the anesthesiologist pokes a needle in the back of my arm and is all, That was the bad part.  But this is the good part!  And he holds up a syringe full of something brownish so I can see.  This is your rum and coke, he says.  It's your Kahlua and milk! says one of the nurses.  Your bellini! says another.  And while I'm trying to think of a cocktail suddenly it's six hours later.

So I'm back in my crib in the Patient Storage Unit and I'm conscious again and no nurses are coming to check on me and I haven't got my glasses on and my voice is broken and I can't make any noise and I feel like nothing so much as an infant.  A terribly bored one.  And it's half an hour before I can get anyone's attention and have them bring me a phone so I can call Joel, and also my glasses and my book.

And before Joel gets there, the surgeon comes back to say some stuff about the surgery, about how it went well or about how they found an army of gremlins growing in my throat or who knows, because I was still HIGH as a kite and I remember nothing except that he came.  I think.  That also might have been Charo.

And then Joel comes with a pot of yellow lilies only one of which is open, which are my favorite way to get flowers because then you get to watch them open one at a time and it's like a science project, or an advent calendar.  And then he sits there for another four hours studying while I alternately sleep and pretend that I am not sleeping.

And finally they decide that I can go home except that putting my pants on gives me the faints, and they want to keep me but Joel talks them into letting me leave and I am miserable by this point because I only thought I felt fine, and all this putting on of pants has made me realize that I feel horrible and I want to be in bed.  But we have to go fetch me some T3s and it's late and we drive all over town looking for a pharmacy that is open and I am queasy as hell but swallowing hurts so much that I can't stand the thought of...reverse-swallowing, as it were.

And I thought that I wanted to eat some yogurt when we got home because I had had nothing since the pre-op steaks except some jello that they brought me, and to be honest Joel ate most of that because my throat felt like razor blades and sea salt, but upon further consideration it turned out that I did not want to eat yogurt because I was already sleeping.

And sleeping is most of what I do now.  Also lying in bed.  Today I had a shower.  I mostly feel fine until I try to do something, and then I feel like an invalid.  Also, I thought I was going to be all tough shit and go easy on the pain meds, but then I realized that all that does for you is give you PAIN, so that you cannot DRINK and then you are dehydrated and also you have a raging case of hot-face and both you and your husband are pissed because you have to sleep with the fan on even though it is FREEZING in your room and you are both 100% swaddled in blankets except for your stupid hot face.  Now I just take the meds.

The end!  Oh no wait.  We still have to wait 2 weeks or so for the test results.  THEN the end!!

Here I am!

Internet!  Blog that I mostly ignore now!  I was going to come on here and tell you all about that time I maybe had cancer but maybe didn't but they still had to go in through my neck and have a look-see, but then I walked to the store and back for some yogurt and now I am done. in.  I tell you, this only having half a thyroid isn't all it's cracked up to be.  It's like my body has devolved from employee of the month to that guy who drinks behind the dumpster when he's supposed to be working.

ANYhoodle, I'm off to take a bit of a nap, and then I might wake up and take some T3s before embarking on my night-nap.  Sleep, I swear, you are EATING my weekend.

Things that I own.

Because Joel and I are now Grown-Ups Who Own Possessions and because we are sick of being That Couple That Never Brings Their Own Tent and because we are going camping by ourselves this week and therefore have no one with which to share a tent, we bought ourselves a tent.

And then because we are Grown-Ups Who Think Ahead, we set it up in the yard to make sure that we knew how, and that it had all its doo-dads and gee-gaws and everything.

And then we had a sleep-over in the yard. It was awesome.

I cannot be left alone in the house.

So I bet you're all wondering what I'm doing on this, the first weekend in MONTHS where we are neither going to the mainland nor having the mainland come here nor camping nor staycationing nor nothing, and THAT is the answer: I will be doing nothing.*

But for right NOW I'm baking some coconut-topped brownies for a bbq tonight, and I made the brownie bottoms which have to cook first for a while, and I always think I'm so clever, all I'll just do this differently, or add some of this, but I never seriously consider the ramifications of what I'm doing or why the recipe may not have called for a layer of chocolate chips between the brownie and the coconut, and the answer IS that spreading what amounts to coconut, sugar and eggs onto a sort of half-baked brownie base is challenging, but spreading cocosugareggs onto a SWAMP of melted chocolate chips on top of a half-baked brownie base is a whole new level of impossible. Also, I made the cocosugareggs too early and the brownie base still had 10 more minutes to half-bake, so I sat there for 10 minutes eating cocosugareggs and yes, I REALIZE THE SALMONELLA RISK PLEASE DO NOT BRING THIS UP UNLESS YOU ARE MY MOTHER, and now I feel over-sugarated.

*Of course, by 'nothing' I mean 'studying for my midterm on Monday and also reading the play that's due to be read for that day and also trying to catch up on the intarwebs.' So, sort of like nothing.

The more you know.

Boo and Darren came for a visit a few weeks ago. It was a trying couple of days, and we learned many hard lessons.

Like, it is difficult to see a statue of Terry Fox and not make fun of him just a little bit even though you know he did great things and was a warrior etc etc etc, because he always looks a bit...off. No? Or, like, it is difficult to understand signs sometimes. What exactly about this is wrong?

Or, it is difficult to see a pirate-y ship and not go over to investigate, and having investigated, not to make incessant 'arrrrrrrr' sounds and keep 'avast'ing each other. Also, it is difficult (unless you are facing the camera directly, as Exhibit Boo) to make your shin look like it has vanished and like you are in fact peg-legged. Instead, you will just look storky (see: Exhibit Me).

Also, it is difficult to fit entirely behind a pole. They are not precisely body-shaped.

Also, it is difficult to put one over on the bunns. They know when you have food you're not sharing.

Also, it is difficult (when the bunns are under your sway) not to try to make them do tricks...

Or to lure them into your lap...

Or to try to please every bunn at once.

Also, it is difficult to make fake-hair look like real-hair. Even improbable chest hair.

Also, it is difficult to stand near my sister without snorgling her.

For boo and Gillian

Campus looks for all the world like someone has taken a basket of baby bunns and heaved it onto the grasses.

Come visit, won't you?

I have no connected thoughts

THIS is why Up was so awesome and Monsters vs. Aliens was only so-so.

Also, I can't stop buying cherries and then eating half of them on the way home, but I'm totally freaked out by the thought that someone might see me spit out the pits, so I hoard them all up in my cheeks until I'm near a hedge and NO ONE is around, but this happens less often than you'd think and frequently I'm not sure what in my mouth I should and should not be swallowing.

Also, I am perfectly capable of dressing myself cutely in the winter, but somehow when it rains in the summer I'm all Do I own boots? Where are all my coats? And what of long-sleeved shirts!?!? And then end up leaving the house in a hoodie and a cap.

An exhuberance of photos! A dismal formatting fail!

Due to some sort of karmic face-slapping, both my birthday and our anniversary fall smack in the middle of PAPERSFINALSTHESKYISFALLING!!! So we celebrate these things in the summer when all the madness is over.

And even though we are po-po, we usually try to get at least an hour away from where we are currently living for el aniversary. This year we left it til the very last minute so that all non-organ-harvesty B&Bs were booked up and we ended up snagging a hotel room in nearby Sooke. Except that while the address of the hotel was in Sooke, the hotel itself was in downtown Victoria.

So we hopped in the car Friday evening and drove a whopping 20 minutes. Getting away from it all! It was probably for the best, though, because we haven't really had a chance to explore Victoria since we moved here SIX MONTHS AGO!

We pretty well spent two and a half days tramping around the city, somewhat hampered by Victoria's abundance of statues and our complete inability to walk by a statue without trying to look like it.
This is tricky when the statue is A.) very high up and B.) holding something that you are not holding (i.e. a sceptre or a gun).It becomes extra-extra difficult when the guy is just STANDING there.Slightly more successful...The old 'stare into middle distance'This inability to walk by a thing and not try to imitate it goes double for animal exhibits where we aren't supposed to be taking photos at alland triple for old-timey posters of Hitler...where we aren't supposed to be taking photos.

Because we have plenty of visitors coming over this summer we had to do a fair bit of 'field research' (read: eating tasty treats in new and exciting places).
It has been a dream of mine to eat one of these ocean-side waffles ever since Robyn came over in April and we walked by the waffle guy. So, maybe less of a Life Dream and maybe more of a Goal for This Year.

Do not think, because of the eating, that we are filthy swimming rich or have forgotten our frugal Mennonite heritage. We totally brought a whack of food from home but we are robust eaters, Joel and I, and there is something about stomping all over the city that says 'Eat a chimichanga the size of your head!'


Lessee, what am I forgetting. Oh yes, the street performers. Seriously, the third of Victoria's population that is neither a college student nor an retiree is a street performer.

Painfully unfunny and aggressively-money-grabby street acrobats that I hated so much I didn't even photograph? Check.

Man-stealing brass statuette from the other day? Check.

Air-brushers, caricaturists, and other on-the-spot artists? Check.

Fire-juggling unicyclist? Check.
Opera singers? Er...check. Buskers dressed inexplicably like lobsters? Checccccccccck!

Darth Vader playing the violin? Victoria, you so crazy. But yes, check.

So...it wasn't like last year when we went to Mexico for two months, or even like two years ago where we actually got out of the city, but it was cozy and relaxing and exhausting all at once.

Happy two years, two months, one week and six days, baby.

All times are for relaxing.

Friends! Who would have thought that time off would be so busy!?!? I have not got a single one of the useful, productive things done that I meant to get done, and Joel and I are skipping town tonight which means that nothing will get done this weekend.

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Because there are things to do, and those things are called Canada Day, and Canada Day in our province's capital is full of entertainments. Like unexpected peacocks.

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Or unexpected lizards.

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Or unexpected fountains.

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Or thieving crows. This happy bastard was rooting through that lady's purse before she came to shooo him.

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Also there are brass statues.

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Brass, husband-stealing, home-wrecking statues.

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Mile Zero is ever-present.
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As is this incredibly de-motivating sign.

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And dice. Giant dice will never lose their appeal.

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And then we lay on the grass and waited for the fireworks to start and hated on the teenagers and cheered when the cops came by to move them along and groused like old people when they came right back. Bonne fete, nation.

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A summary, of sorts

You will have to excuse me for not blogging. I have discovered Twitter and cannot be torn away.

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Before I fell into the twittersphere, I had what they call in the business a 'full weekend,' wherein I wrote a final on Friday evening and then booked it to the ferry and rolled into Burnaby to see my family, and receive generous gifts. The sandals are from my mom. As are the bunions.

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Then we got up at 6:00 to drive to Chilliwack to have breakfast with two of Joel's friends, napped hard at the Kruegers' due to 6:00 a.m. wake-up call, watched two become one (by which I mean, went to a wedding) and then partied hard, had brunch the next morning with friends, went to church with more friends and then had lunch with our old landlords and this tiny nugget of personhood...

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who has become this rambunctious thing.

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Now I have a week off of school, and many exciting plans such as take in some of Joel's shirts that don't fit him, have a few needles stuck in my neck, pit and freeze many pounds of cherries (also, give myself the squirts even though I am an adult and should know better), and register for classes.

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Oh yes, and twitter like mad, because it's like a giant internet party in there.

Koala-kins finds twins

Ok, remember that time boo photoshopped the two of us together into an aquatic nightmare, and then added Robyn to the pile?
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So, I found this photo on CuteOverload and was all SYNCHRONIZED KOALA-FACES and promptly forwarded it to everyone, because I am that person.

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Abuhhhhhhhhhh.

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And then dad was all, Why has bekah not photoshopped Koala into this photo yet, and Robyn was all, Seriously, why? And because my sister is the best one:

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Abuhhhhhhhhhh for everyone.

You will get a real post from me when this Spanish hell is over.

If you're wondering what I've been doing while I haven't been posting, I am slowly being eaten alive by Spanish and I went vacationing last weekend and I've been up to my usual hi-jinks over at backofthebook.

I am a mcseamstress!

Friends! It is June! When did that happen?

Joel has been locked in a windowless room for the past few weeks with nothing to keep him company but THIS:

Those are his notes from one block. He has eight (ish?) more like it. I will never be a doctor.

As for me, I mostly sit on the deck. I sit on the deck and read Victorian novels. I sit on the deck and brush up on my espanish. I sit on the deck and I fix shirts. Remember that shirt that I bought three of that one time? In black and blue and this orangey-red that looks good with literally all of my skirts? Because they was on the cheap? Turns out the reason they were selling 3-for-$15 was because the back was too open and the sleeves didn't stay up, making me look like a slutty milk maid. (poorly-framed auto-timer photos to follow)

This...is not a good look for me.

Fortunately, they have these ghey little straps that are supposed to...tie around your waist? Loop over your neck? H'whatever, they have them.

Un- and re-attached, the straps make excellent back-straps. Hey presto, the shirt works!

So now instead of three shirts I regret buying, I have three shirts that I will wear all the time because you can't see it, but those three buttony-looking things down the cleave, those are jewels, and I love a good bedazzlement.

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Also, sorry I uploaded the photos so small. It's so hot, and my brains are melty.

Now with extra triumph!!!

My student loans came through today, so I paid for my tuition online, forgetting that that always takes a few business days and that tuition is due on Sunday (which, ftr, is an idiotic day to have anything due on), but instead of playing the Will My Online Payment Go Through In Time Game (which is equally, if not MORE fun, than its predecessor), I hoofed down to the school to see what my worst-case-scenario would be.

They honor tuition the day it's paid, regardless of when it comes in, so no fees for me. No being withdrawn from my classes. No frowny faces on my bank statements.

I will celebrate with cupcakes.

In which I am an ingrate.

So, sad face. We've been having this beautiful weather, and we have this deck and a couple of bottles of cheap wine and some frozen mango and I think a bag of chips somewhere and I'm not very busy because I only have the one class and papers are in the only vaguely forseeable future. But Joel's in the middle of finals and spends his days locked in a room at school with no windows.

So while I'm having a great time reading trashy fiction in the sun, it'd be nice if Joel could also be reading trashy fiction (or some serious, manly non-fiction) with me, but by the time he's done and able to spend time on the deck I'll be taking Vic Lit and Spanish, and you're all, That's not a big deal, that's, like, two classes, but what you don't realize is that it's a full semester of Spanish in 3 weeks which is like being KICKED IN THE TEETH WITH SPANISH!!!

So, boo. My life is awesome, but could be more awesome.

Triumph!!

It worked. The Recycling Snobs had no choice but to pick up our re-usables. I am filled with the thrill of victory.

Also, go here to hear me blather on about why, despite all its failings, Top Model = awesome.

This is a fun game.

Will the student loans come through before tuition is due?

The 'Yes, you get money' email came yesterday, tuition is due on Sunday. There are three more working days for all those dollars to filter through the red tape into my account.

*holds breath*

Another peep into my inbox.

Dear Landlords,

Please come back and install the blinds that you installed the supports for back in January, so that I can do my Yoga Booty Ballet (which is just as ridiculous as it sounds, but also surprisingly awesome) without the neighbors joining in.

Thx.

Raych


Dear Frozen Bananas,

I hope you are actually good for me, and not all just in my subconscious, because I have been eating a lot of you, and mostly dipped in chocolate. I suspect that there are more calories in you than you allege. I have been Yoga Balleting my Booty, so you watch yourselves.

Love,

Raych


Dear Sunny Deck,

Let's make out.

Love (even more than the bananas),

Raych


Dear Vanity Fair (the book, not the magazine),

You are long. I thought Edgar Sawtelle was long, but you do not seem to end. Also, due to all of your pages, you are heavy and difficult to read on the aforementioned deck. You require two hands to hold, hampering my ability to eat a frozen banana. If you could please conclude sometime in the next hundred or so pages, I would be much obliged.

With respect for your place in literary history, if not a lot of love,

Raych

Frozer

Joel and I recently acquired a half-sized deep freeze (thx, parents!!) and since I have all this space now, I've been experimenting with things that can and cannot be frozen (note: most everything can be frozen. The lone exception, I think, is booze. Anyway, the experiment has more to do with the relative deliciousness of frozen things to their pre-froze selves).

Things that are just as good after being frozen: meat.

Things that are better after being frozen: bananas, mangoes (eat while frozen or in the process of thawing. Do not thaw and then eat. That will be gross).

Things that are more gross almost to the point of being inedible after being frozen: potatoes, and I'm going to guess, apples.

Stay tuned, I'll be here all summer.

It's like a math problem, without any of the math.

We've embarked on a multi-week experiment, tentatively titled Getting the City to Pick Up Our Recycling, Since They're So Damned High-and-Mighty About Green Living.

A few weeks ago, we came home on recycling day to find our bins still heaped with soggy pizza boxes (ours) and free-range organic egg cartons (the troll in the basement's). There was one of those Things You're Doing Wrong notes, but it didn't make any sense, so I went online last week to see what was and wasn't allowed in the surprisingly strict Victoria recycling guidelines. Juice boxes and creamo cartons are, apparently, verboten. We took out all the contraband and even took a stab at sorting, but nothing doing.

The troll did a bit of recon last week (read: peeped in our neighbor's recycling to see how they do, and then spied on the recycling guys from the basement window) and figures that since the one guy gave the impression of being unable to lift our bin full of empty milk jugs and ketchup containers, that we should split up our goods into three bins instead of two. Because city workers are fragile types. The guys only come by every two weeks, so we'll have to sit on this idea for a while and try not to eat anything that comes in boxes or cans in the meantime.

If this fails, we have another idea or two up our sleeves, but it's tempting to just start hucking things in the garbage. I mean, I'm all for recycling with minimal effort, but if I'm blogging about this it means that I've had to put entirely too much thought into it.