Peck Your Words Carefully

If I shall die in my sleep tonight, my heart will be full with pride. That sounds so morbid, but it is how I feel.
This evening, Babydoll, at one month shy of 8yo sat beside me at the computer and typed her first story.
Cue the kleenex.

In actual credit to her, DH and her teacher, she had penned the story yesterday using a story board approach. Teacher identified sections (Begin in one World; Move to an imaginary world; Identify a problem; Resolve the problem) and Babydoll set the scene in a full tale. Tonight she became an accomplished writer.


A classmate of hers is using a computer, as Teacher said it is allowable, she saddled up to one of our computers and next thing I know Babydoll is changing font sizes for titles, and a colour code (desktop publishing? be still my heart) for emphasis within her colourful tale of a human condemned to life as a troll.

Maybe I do have the knack of a writer? I'm not faking this gig afterall? The written word has been seeping out Babydoll's pores since she first held writing utensils as a toddler, and by golly, this trait came from me. Seeing her at the computer, with poised fingers at the proper 10-finger type positions, I felt so accomplished. Nothing like her Dad's hunt and peck, but rather like me.

Monday is coming fast and we have decisions to make, do we plan our move? Worse, I'm expected at a parents' meeting for a school we may not be attending in 11 days (mid term soon kicks in).

Better still, I could ditch the meeting and really "make" my mind and pop down to the Make and Do group stitching in the pub. Sometimes being a responsible adult is hard. I went to Make and Do last month and loved it. I took an applique chicken. Given that it is set in a pub with pub lighting, one would highly recommend sorting colours earlier in the day. I had stitched my brown chicken's outline, only to realise I was using purple thread. Want to know how I knew? I pulled out my camera and flash shot it. So for the next three colours, I chose by camera.

Time will tell, even over the next 24 hours. Come Monday, I may not get anywhere yet. DH arrived home and Babydoll said, "Dad, look at this! Mom said my story is great. I'm a real writer! She said I get it from her cause you only hunt and peck!"

I'm too busy walking on eggshells.

I'm Back Minus the Hardware

Well, not really, minus one coil, but then add another—it’s math, people. Dr. New (the new doctor come to clean up the old doc’s mess) and I had a chat about contraception, and well, since my first coil (IUD) six years ago worked so well, we decided to insert another while he was fishing out the bad (second) one. Truth is, mess-ups like this occur at time of insertion, so I had the Dr. New pinky swear that he’s the best. So I said ok. Besides, I like to live life on the edge.

For those of you living in FaceBook Land, you’ll know I came through the surgery and hospital stay with my own comedic episode, some sleepwalking (oh, yes I did!), and an addiction to posting and commenting on FB.

(Why did I never listen to DH when he said I should get a smart phone many moons ago? Sometimes I swear it would be easier than ignoring him—but then where would be the fun? Smart phones are brilliant, never out of touch with anyone—unless you count the person with me in the room, the one I don’t see cause my head is down at the phone. Rude, I am. But very thankful I finally listened to DH.)

So, I feel fantastic. The surgery was neat and tidy—nothing really daunting to share. Oh, but get this: in the operating room (or theatre, as we say in Europe), one wall had floor-to-ceiling windows! Seriously, I was wheeled in and transferred to the operating gurney, legs facing the windows (in addition to surgery, I’m having a D&C and second coil inserted...v@gin@lly. Sorry for the visual. But. SERIOUSLY. People.).

It was the fifth floor. I could see rooftops and, honestly my mind was blown. Really, all I wanted to do was ask the porter to unlock the gurney’s breaks and wheel me back to my room so I could get my smart phone. (Told you, I was obsessed with FaceBook.) But I didn’t. I started chatting with Dr. New—cause we’re friends now. Asking him, how did they get windows when Grey’s Anatomy and my two C-sections, even my last coil got a tour but not a room with a view? Then I asked, could that be legal? (I might’ve had a cocktail by now from Dr. Anaesthetist) I remember saying, “someone could do a fly by and look right in!”

Alas, I was soon in lalala land. When I awoke, I was back worrying about whether they managed a keyhole surgery or a stomach incision. I was delighted when recovery nurses said all was done using simple keyholes: one for camera, one for prongs and one for pulling out. Later that day, Dr. New came to my bedside to report the good news, though the recovery nurses had taken his thunder. I was already back to the subject of windows.

DH was there (with flowers, might I add?) and I was explaining to him how wild it was to have floor-to-ceiling windows in the surgery room, with a patient on the table and jet planes taking a peek in. (an overactive imagination? I thought not.) At this point, the doctor retorts, “You do know, there is special lining on the windows that prohibit seeing in from outside?” He said it very condemning, as if I, myself was charting a voyeurism trip.

Me, a pilot? I think not. But, if I was, you know I’d bring my smart phone!