Who said there's not life after death?

I feel like I'm living proof that there is! I'm not ready to go run a marathon yet (like I could have done that anyway!), but I almost feel like I could do a table dance for some old, slow, codger and not be groped too many times.

I feel like I should apologize for my whining this past week but let me tell ya'll, I do not do the throw up thing well. There's no delicacy in that act for this southern belle a'tall, no gentle whispers and vapors in this house when the mistress is sick. A better description would be of a cold, dark, forest with the roars and moans of a tortured, slow-dying dinosaur echoing throughout. Yep, that would be me.

I'm still a little weak and sporting a bruise on one asscheek from the big, bad needle the nurse poked me with on Thursday, and a bruise under my arm that I acquired as I laid upon the air conditioner vent in the bathroom floor on one of the two nights that I spent lying there, but I LIVE dammit, I LIVE!!

Now, this morning, I must find my rapier and go forth into the town to do battle with the warriors of the grocery aisles.

Thank you for all the well wishes and thank you so much Special K for your call last night. You made me laugh and that's the best cure there is!!