After the In-Law Mellow Interval With Roast Dinner, H and I came home again (did I say that already? I did say that already). We spent a day washing things and going to the cinema (The Hobbit – not bad, fight scenes amazing, interspersed with episodes of Mystic Cheese, would try the patience of anyone not a die-hard Tolkien/Jackson/LOTR fan, Richard Armitage can come and sulk at me anyday, as can Adrian Turner. Oh, and Martin Freeman. He can come too. *Fans self*). We had friends over for dinner and stayed up until 3:30 am, talking crap and getting very drunk. Well, they did. I didn’t, because Metformin, but I don’t need Strong Drink Taken in order to talk crap for hours.
And May saw every thing that she had made, and, behold, it was very good.
Now, we gird loins and go to my Mother’s for New Year, so H can have a go at putting up with his In-Laws. It’s just as well he can drink, because his require a great deal more putting-up-with than mine.
Meanwhile, in matters reproductive, just before Christmas Week of Chaos, H wrote an email to yet another Grand High PoohBah of Reproductive Medicine, requesting a, what is this, fourth? Yes, fourth opinion. Because Dr Expensive is making us both feel uneasy. And because I stamped my feet and shrieked that we needed to DO SOMETHING in 2013, and H needed to actually take a great big stakehold in DOING SOMETHING, because I had the bleeding and vomiting and suffering and weird medications that don’t seem to do much bit to do and that was quite enough, thank you. We’ll see what January brings.
If being at Mama’s precludes blogging, I shall be content in the knowledge that I took this opportunity right here to wish all my Gentle Readers, Pocket People, Dear Friends and Loyal Lurkers a very, very happy 2013, full of joy and wonder and laughter and hugs and heart-warming moments and shit like that.