It's Thursday

I cannot possibly get everything I need to get done by Monday done. And yet, I suppose I will. And what doesn't get done doesn't. Que sera, etc.

Tomorrow I will be cooking and/or setting up all day for the evening's Christmas Eve meal, at which we will be joined by R's new in-laws. Folks, I have a weeny little house, but I do have a nice new table and chairs, and a whole mess of Fiesta Ware, so it will be what it is. My daughter the gourmet helped set up the menu, but I am making all of it. Cute, eh? Never mind. It's a very Italian-themed meal, and I think it'll be fun to make. I just have to keep out of my own way.

Christmas itself will be a whole new thing this year. My own ILs are in their new place, it's only 20 minutes away, and none of us are cooking, we'll be eating in a private room at one of the on-site restaurants. We could be home before dark.

Christmas will be over the second we get home, and I will go right into prep for surgery mode. Not only will I be on a liquid diet all day Sunday, I'll be getting things ready for when I get home, like moving my computer to where I'll be lying down, putting crutches nearby in case I need help getting up, getting my pj-type wear where it'll all be convenient for other people to grab it for me, like that. All of my laundry will be done and put away before I leave for the hospital.

I'm not so much nervous about the surgery as I am about the unknown aftermath, diet and strength and so on. Tonight, the Sibs and I are going to test our Skype connection, since she's still housebound with her broken leg for a few weeks. I know Skype's been down, but like everything else, what is is, and I'll see how it goes.

As for me, I'm going to make another cheese sandwich on Wonder Bread, nectar of the freaking gods. I've been eating lately as if each thing I eat is for the last time, which could be. More likely, not for a long time. They told me at the surgeon's office that I won't be able to eat meat for maybe a year. Now, I could care less about steak, so it didn't sound so bad at first. And then I thought: what about a BLT? (On white toast, with swiss cheese and mayo on the side, please.) No bacon? And no sweets, they tell me? What else won't I be able to eat forever?

Ok, sandwich. I probably won't post till after the surgery, but I'll get K to post a "Mom's okay" if I can.