I gave up on the Percocet early in the game.  While it certainly takes away pain the combination of nausea and overwhelming sleepiness was not exactly the best sensation to substitute for pain.   It has been Advil for me - which means less than perfect pain control, but a whole lot better control over my attention span.

I was on a business trip for the week prior to my surgery and came back immediately afterward to the requisite post-trip game of office catch-up.  I am barely treading water here.  By the time I finish my day and try to eye the list of blog drafts in the queue, I can barely think my way down it.  Typing anything is just more effort than I can muster.

While I try to wring the cobwebs from my brain, I will try to wring a few more pennies from your wallet.

Just a short while ago, I wrote a piece about the Fresh Air Fund.  They have found a group of donors that are willing to match dollar-for-dollar, the amount donated through June 30th - just a few short days away.

Non-profits get hit hardest in this economic climate.  Donate if you can.  Because these kids need a vacation even more than I do.

After a rather intimate view of the internal workings of my right knee, my orthopedic surgeon has come to the following conclusions:

1. My ACL is not torn.  At least not much.  A tiny bit along one side where it attaches to my femur, but not enough to justify reconstruction.
2. My cartilage, however, is an entirely different story.  I have not been kind to my knees and it shows.  He smoothed it out as best he could, but there is at least one area over the end of the femur that is completely bare.  It is likely that I will be a good candidate for knee replacement surgery in another 15 years or so.

So - glucosamine, low impact, and knee braces are in my near future, but so is a whole lot less pain and agony than expected.  I have another 15 years to worry about that.

My pain killers are calling my name soft and low.  I am going back to sleep now.

… and damned if you don’t.

The Federal Government is taking heat for spending $2.5B in taxpayer money to fund research in to alternative therapies, only to find that they (surprise!) don’t work.

In a crappy economy where we all like to fingerpoint about who’s wasting whose money on what, it’s easy to to pooh-pooh spending on acupressure and echinacea.  But the agencies that safeguard the nation’s health are stuck between a rock and a hard place.

If they don’t fund studies into herbal and alternate therapies, they are accused of being in bed with Big Pharma and not serving the national interest by exploring cheaper natural therapies.

But if they do, and they get negative results, they are accused of wasting taxpayer dollars AND being in bed with Big Pharma anyway.

In other words, if they find anything but glowing reports of utility, they are screwed.

God Bless the American Public and their love/hate relationship with science.

I will return to writing this blog, I promise.

But in the meantime,  I will share with you my moment of fiscal insanity.  I am fairly rolling in glee of my financial irresponsibility.

In the full knowledge that I have about $1500 of medical bills coming up, I have CHARGED, on my CREDIT CARD, $1000 worth of plane tickets to St. Maarten.

I have a passport.

I have plane tickets.

I am going.  If the proverbial FLOOD happens, I will pitch the plane tickets and take the Ark, but I am GOING on the trip to St. Maarten that my husband and I have been planning for almost two years.

Because if I have to face reconstructive knee surgery with 6-9 months of painful rehab and no contact sports until 2010 without SOMETHING to look forward to, I will be looking for bridges to jump off of before the year is over.

It’s cheaper than long-term therapy, I reckon.

My continued feeble attempts to focus on the positive in life:

If I had to wake up with a crushing, gut-wrenching, hot-flash-inducing migraine, at least I can now revel in that post-headache euphoric giddiness.

Just one of those occasional moments that emphasize that pleasure is, indeed, just the absence of pain.

I am going shopping now, before the high wears off.

Last year, we bought season tickets to the local water park.

And I broke my leg.

I got to go once.

So, at the end of last season, we bought passes for this year, so I would be able to go.  We even spent the not-inconsiderable amount for a guest pass, so that Harry could take a little friend.

And I tore up my knee.

It’s starting to look like the powers-that-be simply don’t want to see me in a bathing suit.

Remember that period of time when this became the whiniest blog EVER?  That period of time I refer to as the “Broken Leg Era“?

Well, welcome back.

I have a torn ACL in the same, freaking leg.

Surgery is June 19th.  

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

My son’s daycare uses a discipline method based on duck coloration.  If he is polite to his classmates, follows the directions of the teacher and behaves himself in general, his duck stays green for the day.

If he has to be asked more than once to follow directions, or is mildly disruptive, but follows correction, his duck is yellow for the day.

If he is particularly recalcitrant or the normal measures don’t correct his behavior, he gets a red duck - and let me tell you, these ducks are a particularly angry red.  I wouldn’t want to see on of those devil ducks next to my name.

This may sound like a rather trivial method of discipline to an adult.   I mean, what does the average 40-something really care what color laminated paper duck they choose to hang on a wall?  But, believe me it works.  We added our own extra incentive - a week of green ducks gets Harry a special surprise for the weekend.  It has been elaborate as Disney on Ice, or even as simple as a trip to McDonalds for Brownie Bites.  

Harry takes his duck color seriously.  On a week where he managed to stay green all week and slipped into yellow late Friday afternoon, he was noticeably distressed at that one yellow mark on his calendar.  He wants to earn that green.  Every day before school, we go over what he needs to do to get a coveted green duck.

While my mother was visiting, she noticed Harry napping on the couch and smiling in his sleep.  When he woke up, she asked him what he was dreaming about that made him smile so big.  

I was dreaming of green duck days…

So who wants to be a princess in socks with pearls?

Me, me, me, me!

I just finished test-knitting this Tintagel sock for Janel Laidman for her upcoming book The Enchanted Sole.

Now I just have to figure out what to wear with them that won’t cover them up.

Okay, I may total wreck my carefully crafted image to some folks, but, here goes:

A SEPHORA just opened in Little Rock!!!

SQUEEEEEEEEE!!!!!