Thursday, May 21, 2009

Another week.

People, it is RAINING in Tucson. Let me repeat, IT IS RAINING IN TUCSON. I know you people who come from places where water isn't a museum-quality oddity think I'm flipping out over nothing, but I can't remember the last time it rained in May. It is currently 64 degrees as I type. Yesterday's LOW was 78. Think about that one. COOL and RAINING in MAY in TUCSON. The zombies are coming, people, or the apocalypse, or the zombie apocalypse, or the four horsemen zombies, or something, because this is NOT NORMAL. (Please note: this is in no way intended to be a complaint. I am ecstatic. RAIN! I just worry that it comes across as complaining because this time of year, I don't know how to talk about the weather any other way.)


My knitting has been monogamous on Mary Jane. I have about 5 inches to finish the body, and at that point will need to finish the sleeves and pick up and knit the neckline. I'm pretty excited about this one and am at the point where, by the time I get sick of stockinette, it's time to do the serpentine stitch, and vice versa, so I'm still entertained. I think it will be nicely wearable and I'm excited to try it on.

In DH's health news, the doc says no RA. He was tested yesterday and they're going to run for valley fever antibodies, and if it's not that, it's biopsy time. (Even if it is valley fever, he'll probably still need a biopsy because there was a "nodule" in the lung xray when they were looking for pneumonia. Oh, and he forgot to tell the doc about that time 10 years ago when he gutted a house and found out later that all that dust he was making was asbestos-laced.) The doc says he has no bacterial or viral infections (hooray, no swine flu, or bird flu, or deer flu, or whatever), and if fungal infection is ruled out, the doc is at a loss. He's due to see the pulmonary specialist in about 10 days I think - it was tough to get him an appointment because apparently there was some big pulmonary conference in SoCal this month so all the lung docs are all full up. Anyway, they're squeezing him in, he's reducing his smoking and still talking about quitting, and he's FREAKING ME RIGHT THE HELL OUT. Overnight he stopped talking about buying rims for his car and started talking about "making sure the family is taken care of". My mind keeps yelling at itself to stop flipping out because they haven't found anything wrong and it's probably going to be no big deal and treatable, but then he goes and makes some comment about running out of time and I get all flipped out again. I told him he's absolutely forbidden from having anything serious or untreatable, and if he dies young it will be because I kill him and no other reason, but you know, he's a contrary jerk and will probably get something insane just to piss me off. Because it IS all about me, after all. Anyway, more healthy lung thoughts for him, and healthy brain/heart thoughts for me. Bug is starting to wonder what's wrong with my eyes that they're always red and leaking. (DH told me not to go blogging about how he's dying or anything like that, but keeping it in my head was making it get bigger and scarier than it needed to be, so I figured I'd let you people textually smack me upside the head and tell me to quit being so dramatic because it's nothing.)
Anyway, it's already 9:45am and I haven't started drinking yet! I'm going to go make a margarita and knit some Mary Jane.