How much longer until I can go out by myself ?

I am making my third post of the day (OK, really my second, because last time I just added on to a previous post) because I have NOTHING to do but document the minutiae of sitting around the house. I am not a "sit around the house" kind of girl. I mean, I can sit, and I can sit around, but I do tend to get out every day, either with the kids or without - but it always involves driving myself, or walking myself, to taking the bus or in some way being responsible for my own destiny.

Boy I miss that.

My first crack at controlling my post-op destiny (good lord, I say that like I am a damn tranny or something) is meeting girlfriends for brunch. After I got home from the clinic on Tuesday, I sent out my typical sarcasm-laden info-email glossing over some details, and keeping the girlfriends in the loop. While Dear Husband had done an excellent job of calling everyone to let them know the outcome, I still felt so good, and so outraged, that I wanted to put in my own two cents. And I wrapped up my missive with an invitation to Sunday Brunch. As in tomorrow.

And then, I promptly forgot that it would help to tell people WHEN to meet for brunch. So of course, today, it all came racing back to me - the brunch, the looming date, the fact that no one knew what time.....and so I may just be having brunch by myself. I shall bring a book so that I do not look too pitiful if no one actually shows up - these things happen after all. But darling Marn, who has been my gastronomical sidekick for years, and Rebake, who joined the party as soon our kindred spirits connected, have both respondezed in the life affirming so I expect they will be there to suck down a couple of bloodies. Mai is trying to find a sitter (let's say a little prayer) and the rest of the girls seriously probably have no idea what the fuck I have planned, despite a last-minute email I sent out this afternoon. And a few lucky ducks are on the mainland enjoying the glorious fall weather.

After sending out my beacon of brunch information, we had our neighbors, who were double-booked for celebratory Sunday brunch, over for a celebratory Saturday night "You're cured !" dinner of champagne, grilled short ribs and assorted sausages, rosti potatos, salad, and forest pie (rhubarb and berries) and assorted other munchables. We oohed and aahed over my new pantry design (Have I mentioned that I adore my husband ?) and the salad was a group activity involving both mommies and all three kids and a small amount of debate over who's lettuce was who's.

After dinner, and dessert, and bedtime for the kids, I was thinking about the evening, and realized that I had kept talking about How Much Things Cost during dinner. Ew. Have I become "that girl" ? I know it is tacky - and yet, I can't help myself, I am just so freaking amazed at How Much Things Cost these days. Our electric bill, which shows a fairly level usage, has gone up $70 per month recently. Food costs are spiraling (and not just those damn ice cups) and gas is ridiculous (We spend $4.79 a gallon here on Maui). And while all of these prices escalate, our debt escalates as well - because I decided to stay home and write and work part time and then of course almost immediately went on a trip, then came home and got sick, and voila, here we are. So while I REALIZE that I keep talking about how shocking prices are, I am not really doing it to complain, so much as to try to process the reality which is that things are REALLY FUCKING EXPENSIVE and I AM FREAKING OUT. This website is not income producing, and I only wait tables one or two days a week, and my writing gig doesn't even cover the electric bill, and the travel biz is slow so basically OH FUCK we have to figure something out, and it can't involve cutting costs or selling the house because we cut the costs and the real estate market is DOA. So I guess that leaves me obsessing about prices and costs and bills and debts. I shall try to spare you the gory details from now on - just wanted to let you know I was aware, and I am really gonna knock it off now.

No, really. I am going to bed.

Hopefully I will not have a repeat performance of last night's totally twisted dream theater which left me exhausted and cranky. I don't know why they prescribed me these damn sleeping pills if they are gonna make me all weird and paranoid like that. I am switching back to my "peppermint tea and a bar of chocolate" bedtime ritual. Works for me, and I got the chocolate on super sale, which was great because usually it is so damn expens.....oh fuck. Forget it. Nevermind.