Tick, tick, tick

No, it isn't a timebomb. Ok, maybe it is. What it really is ... the clock ticking till surgery time. I'm starting to get more and more anxious. In less than 12 hours, I'll be having my gallbladder removed in a laparoscopic cholecystectomy. The doc will squeeze the gallbladder out an itty-bitty opening in my belly-button. Sounds fun, no?

So, now I'm good and nervous. I dropped off my baby girl at my folks. That broke my heart. Picked up my son on the way home. Been washing clothes, putting away clothes, making lots of tea (no carbonated drinks for the rest of the week), picking up around the house, emptying the dishwasher, etc. The best part of this night: the Mavs-Warriors game. It is definitely taking my mind off what is coming tomorrow morning.

We had a good weekend. Our baseball team won its game Saturday 6-5. The boys seemed genuinely sad that I wouldn't be pitching any more. The parents, ok, not so much. :) I got lots of "puss in boots" faces from the boys, which was very cute. We also had our baseball pictures taken and I swear Mikey from Orange County Choppers was working with our group. I'll post pictures later this week. I'm anticipating some amusing drug-induced blogging to come. Maybe some pictures, too. I know you guys have missed seeing some mangled bloody bodypart of mine. We're going on almost two years since I had any of those posted. I need to fix that.

And, just a few other observations: my son is even whiter than me despite his love for hip-hop or whatever that music is called. We got some American Idol toys from McDonald's. One is a pretend microphone in which you can hit a button and it "rates" your performance. One rating says: you're the bomb, dawg. My son had the blankest stare on the planet when he read this. I had to explain that it is slang for a really good job. He thought it was weird.