A quick update on G'ma...after some back and forth and I think general uncertainty on her part, G'ma decided to let them do the surgery. She has a new lease on life...granted, her road will be long and tough, but she is ready for recovery and anxious to get home. Yay!

Let's chat for a few moments about my son. Oh, Jack. Leave it to my glorious child to love having me kiss his feet. I loathe feet. Seriously. I can't stand to have hubby's feet touching me in bed, I don't like being near other people's feet, etc. etc. Most of all, I hate poorly groomed feet - it's just my thing. Pedicurists are brave souls. Anyhoodle...Jack. When he hurts himself, head, hand, nose, knee, doesn't matter - when I ask if I should kiss it for him, he immediately raises his foot to my mouth. He insists on having both kissed. That said, I don't mind kissing his feet. His are the only ones I will touch - besides my own.

So, I finally, finally went and purchased new bras. I haven't bought normal (and by this I mean ones that aren't so gargantuan as to hold first trimester growth/lactating boobies) bras since before I was pregnant. Isn't that sick? Needless to say, it was a bit of a trauma. I got measured and low & behold, my around size has gone down almost 4 inches. Seriously? My boob has gone down 2 inches. I'm not sure if that's actual size or just due to deflation. Well, due to the fact that my boobs are in my pits, I still had to buy the normal around size, not the one I actually measured for. Really? (Insert f-bomb). However, cup size, minus one! Yahoo! Who am I kidding, they're still monstrosities. Give me an A cup any day and I swear, I'll be happy. Is it possible to donate your extra to charity? There has to be some poor woman out there dying for a new set while here I sit with an unwanted pair. Maybe that's something I will invent. In any case, my old friend Victoria did me right - they're real, and in these bras, they're spectacular.