Gearing up for the colonoscopy over here.

The new GI I’m seeing is way different than the other one, and has this whole “recommended prep” thing that starts a full week before the actual test. I’m at three days now, and have to eliminate all fruits, vegetables, whole grains, nuts and seeds. Yeah. So all the stuff I try to make sure my diet is full of is off-limits until after the test on Friday.

Yep. I went to Trader Joe’s and bought white bread, butter crackers, animal crackers, and juice. I am totally going to gain a billion pounds with all of this white food. Ugh.

Like I haven’t been trying unsuccessfully to lose weight for ages.

Also like I haven’t done this many, many times before and sometimes only had the solution the night before as my only prep. Seriously. And my intestines are pretty much always sparkle fresh.

But, if you know me, you know I loves to follow the rules. So I will. But wow.

I’m going to get even chunkier. Just watch. 

Also, seriously? Don’t they want people to poop more before the colonoscopy? No fiber or vegetables? This makes no sense. 

Oh, well. Commencing Operation White Bread.

Man, what a day!

We got up, had breakfast and played with the bird a little bit, and then started day one of our first real project in a while. My husband and I are replacing and repairing the wood trim on our house. Well, he’s doing the repair and replace work while I do stuff inside, and then we’ll both do the painting.

I decided to tackle my kitchen and, holy crap, my cabinets are a piece of...um...junk. Yeah, junk. Nothing else, not any cuss words or anything like that. Just junk.

When we bought the house, I was fooled by the thick oak slab doors into thinking that even thought they’re old and needed a lot of cleaning, that they were good quality cabinets so we’d get good use out of them until we’re ready to do the big remodel.

I was super wrong. The wrongest wrong you ever did see.

They’re laminate, and it was a rental, so they’ve been seriously abused. Big time. When we first moved in, it was tricky because I’ve never had a kitchen with this kind of configuration, so I just put stuff where it fit, and figured I’d move it later. Also, the shelves can be moved, but the pegs that hold them in place were so caked with crud (someone had exploded a soda in one and never bothered to wipe it out) that I had to scrub just to get them to move and by the time I was done I was too exhausted to care. So I put the things where they fit and thought that it would be fine.

It’s been okay, especially since we had such a crazy year, but it was time to switch things to better places. So I got my pliers out and moved the shelves so I could get everything to fit. And I didn’t break anything! The shelves, however are super warped so I did pinch the crap out of myself, even if I did avoid falling and breaking my neck. Go, me!

My husband spent the (extremely hot) day outside pulling gross insulation off of the house and pulling wood off and then sawing more wood and putting it back up on the house. So that was probably just as awful as it sounds, but there’s still three more days of work to go.

My feet hurt. His feet hurt. Oh, boy. This is going to be fun.

Since I’ll be turning 40 in less than a month, I am obviously in need of some serious advice, because my ads have all been for articles, products, exercises, and clothing for women over 40. Yeah. Thanks, guys.

I have also been seeing a suspicious number of pieces with titles such as, “10 articles women over 40 should NEVER wear!” (yes, with the caps and exclamation point), which leads me to believe I may need to throw out all of my sandals and jeans and invest in some orthopedic shoes, a walker, and some sweet polyester slacks in a variety of jewel tones.

I should probably just invest in a ton of adult diapers, too, as they keep telling me that loss of bladder control is inevitable at this point, and I should probably get some Ben-Gay for the crippling arthritis that is about to descend upon my body.

Seriously, guys. It’s just a birthday. If I want to wear flip flops and jeans with holes in them, I’m going to do so. Slacks are weird and uncomfortable and make too much noise. Also, anyone who tells me to throw out my glitter nail polish is going to get my foot up their behind.

I am still a fairy princess. I’m just an old fairy princess.

So, to all the other ladies out there who aren’t ready for the nursing home and walker yet, you keep wearing your favorite things. Ignore those ads. You don’t have to be an old lady and do old lady things just because you’re not 20 anymore.

Except Murder, She Wrote. You have to watch it. J.B. Fletcher is glorious.

So we’ve survived four weeks without our mom.

Ugh.

No matter how hard it was, it was so nice to still get to see her smile and have some hope that she would perk up and get better.

And most of the time, I know the right thing happened and we’ll see her again someday.

I know some day I will look at her pictures and not cry.

Today is just not that day.

I miss my mom.

Ugh. Still with the feelings.

Well, I’ve almost survived the dreaded M Day, with the help of all the food in the world. Seriously. So much for today. It’s all vegetables for me for dinner tonight.

At any rate, I gardened and got some purple pompoms for the house, and got lots of exercise and time outside this weekend, in honor of my sweet Mama. I also bought a bunch of new dresses for the summer with a discount she had in one of her accounts. Plus, I found a hilarious meme involving toddlers, poop and a chicken with an egg in its pants, so I have a splendiferous new lock screen.

So we survived, but I miss her so much. I think I always will. She loved church and flowers and dresses on holidays, and now I don’t have my dress-up partner anymore, which is lame. I like to think, though, that where she is now there are a million dresses and a huge walk-in closet that never runs out of space. And flowers blooming everywhere, and bright sunny paths on which she can walk or run without any shoes, unless she wants to wear them.

Ugh. Still so many dumb feeling times. Barf.

Mother’s Day is rapidly approaching.

It’s going to be extra yucky this year, because now I don’t have a Mom. Also, I’m still going to get the usual, “You're a woman in her 30s, married, so you must have procreated!” deal, so that’ll be delightful.

We are, however, getting to have New Mexican food twice, so that’ll help.

I gardened for like three hours yesterday, just kind of in honor of Mom. Wow, it’s hard. Well, some of it, anyway. Milkweed and dandelion greens are a pain out here, but the grasses are easy to pull. And I’m pretty good at geraniums, so we got our pots from last year out of the garage (they stayed alive!) and pruned them back, and today I’m assembling some Adirondack chairs and making an area to sit and maybe getting some annuals going, since we’re past frost time. I think.

At any rate, it was productive and good, and hopefully the momentum from that will push me through this weekend.

Unlikely, but what the heck. Worth a try.

So we’ve been trying to live as cleanly as possible, to lower our exposure to chemicals and maybe attempt to avoid cancer. We’ve changed our cleaning products (big surprise...the natural stuff works way better and we use less, so it’s cheaper), and changed to organic everything whoever possible (I’m not paying $4 for an organic bell pepper...that’s crazy), and even use soap and shampoo made from natural thingamajiggers. So we’re pretty darn invested in trying to be more natural and less chemical with our bodies.

Except for now. I’m embracing the chemicals.

So, as you may know, I am allergic to everything. Really. I bet I’m even slightly allergic to myself. It’s ridiculous. And it’s getting worse as I get older, so go figure. About fifteen years ago, I suddenly became allergic to deodorant. Like, every single one I tried gave me a rash. Going without is just not an option because me and smells are not friends, so I kept trying and finally discovered that I could use Dove deodorant. So I’ve been using it ever since.

The problem? It contains aluminum. That’s on the no-no list. But it works and it doesn’t give me a rash, so I was going to use up my Costco multi-pack and then try something new; however, fate intervened.

I woke up a few days ago with an eczema spot in my armpit. Ugh. Usually means allergies.

So I thought, “Okay, I’ll use this as an opportunity to try a new deodorant.” Went to the natural, non antiperspirant section of the deodorant area, and found something which had nothing I’m allergic to on the label, and smelled less like patchouli than the other choices, and went for it.

This morning? Yeah.....

I woke up with a huge rash covering my entire armpit, and smelling like some strange person had come and rubbed b.o. all over my armpits. Has to be someone else, because I’ve never smelled like this. Wow. Just, wow.

So, I’m tossing this one in the failure column and going back to my chemical-laden Dove. The one that works because, hell, maybe I got that little spot but that’s what cortisone cream is for.

Hippie life is one thing, but stinky rashy armpits are just too much in my neck of the woods.

We’re all doing okay.

I thought I should start off with that, since every time I talk to anyone, that’s what they’re wondering. How am I, how’s Dad, how’s my husband, how’s my sister.....

...we’re okay. Not great, but okay.

It’s hard to have this huge space that was filled with worry and effort and trying to figure out how to beat the cancer and save Mom be suddenly empty. And then every time I look at photos, I see her face and I realize that all of her silly happy outgoingness isn’t here anymore, and it hurts.

I suppose I could stop looking at pictures, but that would hurt, too. Because she was a great mom.

At any rate, we’re all back to work and organizing the house so my dad can get it set up in a way that will work well for him, and we’re glad he’s hanging in there. But it’s weird not to hear her singing to the dogs. And it’s weird not to google colon cancer cures. It’s also weird to see big, bright windows where her bed was in their TV room, and not to have to tell anybody that I’m not done with my water glass, so they don’t need to put it into the dishwasher.

Little things.

But we’re okay. It’s not brutal anymore, or intensely worrying, or any of that. Just a little lonely and empty. I’m sure that’ll get better, but, boy, do I miss my mom.