Bunco at my house tonight went well. As further proof that I've really lightened up with my half-assed Martha Stewart complex, pretty much all of the food was thanks to Target and a pair of scissors. Open some gourmet chip bags, pour some Hershey's kisses into a bowl, pop the lid on some pre-made hummus...there you go. I did make one thing - a hot dip that tastes exactly like a jalapeno popper, and that everyone normally seems to like. Probably would have been better if I hadn't absent mindedly put in three times the amount of jalapeno the recipe called for. It was a good thing I bought a lot of beer.
And now I'm off to a five day certification class that I'm more than a little apprehensive about. Stand by to hear all about it once I see what it's actually like.
Still waiting for a final opinion from the oncologist, but my guy certainly worked the estrogen crowd tonight. You could barely find a vacant spot on him to pat, and I don't even want to know how many little hand-fed tidbits found his way down his gullet. I got through the evening without crying once, which, considering my last 24 hours, has to be worth something. I think I've shed more tears in the last day than I have in the last year.
Surely I must have gotten some jalapeno juice in my eyes.