Despite my pessimism, The Big Six are plumping up nicely on their chemical diet. Barry Bonds would not be unimpressed. The runt of the follicular litter is 17mm, the rest 18 and 19. I trigger tonight at 10:30; retrieval will be Tuesday.
My R.E. was cautiously optimistic about our chances, and talked with us at length about what's going on with his practice. He will be in business through the 27th, at least, and then an old colleague of his will be taking over if the board's decision is not overturned.
I decided yesterday that I am done with the wallowing, with feeling like an emotional invalid. So I decided to face some fears: first up, I did my own damned shots. And, with enough ice, they weren't as bad as I expected, just a little creepy. Then, despite my previous, and most emphatic, refusal, I told Jeff I would, indeed, accompany him to the wedding. We went, there were pregnant women everywhere, a good friend let slip that she's expecting again, the bride was annoyingly gorgeous in her sixth month, there were two dozen beautiful babies and toddlers, and I managed to enjoy myself anyway. It was oddly liberating. And I ate a pound of raw-milk Cowgirl Creamery cheese, just because I could.
I am not going to apologize today for apologizing yesterday for being a wuss on Friday, because I might find myself apologizing for apologizing for the apology tomorrow, and that could get downright silly. So I'll just say another "thank you" for your kindness and support, instead, and know I mean it truly.