I’ve been re-reading some of Alice Seabold’s memoir of that same title.  She was, in some ways, the inspiration behind Lymphomania.  I’m awed by her honesty, humanity, and humor in light of what she experienced.

And so, in turn, I’ve been thinking about that word lately.  A lot.  Like alotta lot.  Even before this weekend.  But especially yesterday.

As miserable as I’m feeling physically, I’m still wrapped in this snuggly blanket of gratitude – gratitude that Dad’s recovering so well from surgery, that nothing happened yesterday, that the Lymphomania fan page is filled with supportive comments – some from people I’ve never even met, that I awoke this morning to the sounds of birds – which then woke the cats up and sent them scampering down the stairs of this lovely house, that I spent the evening with Rocco – home safe from the city – sorting the boxes of second hand baby clothes we’ve received from our ridiculously generous friends and family, that you guys tolerate me being weepy AND vagina-centric all in the same post….

Today, after yesterday’s mourning, just seems like the kind of day to celebrate such things.  But frankly, I think I’m a little too hormonal to try and put it into words without sounding melodramatic, douchey, or super sappy…you know, basically like a Nicholas Sparks novel, so maybe I’ll just let Ben Folds talk for me.

Happy Monday, lovelies.  And thanks.


    1. Boo. I had no idea. But you know he’s from NC, right? I’m only mildly obsessed with him. *Resumes thumbing through waist high stack of photos of Ben.*

  1. Happy Monday sweet Elly. I am so glad that things are good for you in all those ways. But you do realise if anyone could do hormonal and douchey, and still rock, it would be you. 🙂

  2. I have been thinking about you for many many reasons. But somehow you always manage to become the Cheer-er rather than the Cheer-ee. You are like the sun.

  3. Lucky indeed. I’m back, kitten.

    Tired, weak, with decidedly less muscle tone and still lacking somewhat in sex drive (shhhhhhh!), but back nonetheless.

    And you’re the first person I’ve visited.

    Thanks for everything, chicken.


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