Thank you. Thank you, GLAMOUR magazine, for what was probably the best day of my life.
Or at least my week.
I’m going to come right out and admit it: I do occasionally suffer bouts of severe hypochondria(yes, along with the obsessive-depressive-maniacal-list making). Today, after reading a short but handy little article on three very vague symptoms of ovarian cancer, I decided that I was quite possibly dying and needed to live accordingly. It took all of 40 seconds to make this assessment.
Knowing how limited my time on this Earth was, I first began worrying. Wait! I haven’t taken Mia on a fairy-hunt through the woods! I haven’t taken Cheyenne backpacking through Italy! Caleb and I have never had a couples’ massage for Christs’ sake! What about the matching tatoos we’ve been planning to get? I haven’t EVEN gotten to hold and cuddle with a baby chimpanzee!
I CAN’T PLAY THE TRUMPET!
And I had an insatiable hunger for frozen blueberries!
I leapt–leaped?–into action. Mia and I yoga-bootied to get our minds right. Never had a deep cleansing breath been so…cleansing. Next, we dumped a ton of frozen blueberries into a tupperware container and headed out to the clubhouse for a chowdown and a swing. Then, while Mia was taking a nap, I treated myself like the freakin’ goddess that am and took a hot bath. I finally tried that lemon juice-brown sugar and honey concoction I’ve been curious about for so long. The brown sugar left me surprisingly soft, the honey left me sticky, and I don’t recommend using anything "lemony" right after you shave your legs.
When Mia woke up, it struck me that I needed to get out and move around. So we danced to Disney Girls That Rock. And then, I wanted to run! And so, freshly scrubbed and squeaky-clean, I ran-jogged-fast walked-walked-schlepped-slowly around the block, Mia cheering in the stroller, Hannah Montana blazing through my mind ("You get the beeeeeeeeeeeeessssstttt of both worlds!"). I forgot how incredibly beet-red my face gets when I run. I think that’s why I stopped running–I scare people.
I’m sure even those who live life to the fullest keep up with their daily responsibilities, so I took a break from the me-time and swept, folded clothes, and fed dogs before eating fried fish and cherry pie for dinner with the girls.
All in all, a pretty damn good day for someone who was just self-diagnosed with cancer. I know it’s nothing to joke about, but my mind was in full-swing "what if?" mode and it got the best of me. I might not be scheduled to climb mountains or bungee jump anytime soon, but can’t I just enjoy the "everyday"? I got to thinking, and I made a short LIST of ordinary things to do for the rest of my life (Thank Goodness the computer can’t mess up my handwriting; I’d be here all night.)
- Eat chocolate. EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.
- Cuss only around adults, and only every other day. On your off days, replace all the fucks, shits, and hot-damns! with Geez Louise, Eye-y-eye, Holy Mackerel, maybe even the occasional Oh Corn! How does one spell "Eye-y-eye" anyway?
- Dance with my kids. And maybe my dogs. And if Caleb’s not too busy laughing at me, dance with him.
- Attempt Caleb’s trick of skimboarding down the driveway in a rainstorm. That was just cool.
- Make contact with the barnswallows living (yet again) in our entryway. Feed the babies mashed up worms while Caleb distracts the mommy and daddy.
- Take one country drive per week, without squashing any turtles.
- Call all my grandmas more than once a year. And send them flowers just for the hell of it.
- Perfect a great recipe with a secret ingredient and get the family hooked on it long enough for them to be really aggrivated when I die and take said secret ingredient with me to my grave.
- Talk to a farmer about having a picnic right smack dab in the middle of one of his fields; I’ve always wanted to do that.
- Find a damn chimpanzee to cuddle with. Life’s just too short to let that dream pass me by.
Pretty attainable goals, right? I may or may not get started on them just yet. But at least my legs are soft.