Enough about breast cancer. For now.

Today was parent teacher conferences. Her teachers are so honest and caring. Most of them, anyway. The important ones. And the truth is that for the one that we don't absolutely love, that's a lesson in life. We deal with these people all the time.

Overall, decent news. The biggest thing was that tonight, after our family lunch/conferences/grocery shopping, my girl did her work. A lot of it. With very little complaining. I think some of the words got through. The funny thing is that much of her work is very interesting. She really put in a LOT of effort. We were proud and relieved.

She also got the grade for her Big Science Test. 87!!!!!  It wasn't an A, so she only gets 2 days of the Wii back - the original deal was that for an A she would get a BRAND NEW WII GAME and 2 weeks back - but the B was great. So we decided to get her a new game anyway.

Pushovers? Hardly. An 87? My kid? She studied hard. We both suffered that weekend as she fought the process. But we won. She won. And she saw that her hard work not only paid off, but didn't have to be as hard as it was! No results back from the math test, but I'm less confident about that one. Call it a hunch. Or call it observing my kid. She's a terrible liar like her mom.

Ok. Back to cancer. I know. I promised to not yap about it.

One of her projects was about my radiation treatment for science. She interviewed me tonight, inspired by the magazine article published this month. She still has to type out the nitty gritty that she learned from her personal tour of the radiation HELL HOLE that I spent 6 weeks in.  But that's easy. I hope!

I have this one recording project hanging over my head. I work on it a little each night, but I'm so damned tired still. Not nearly as bad as before - which makes me wonder who was above me, pulling on my marionette strings to make it appear as if I could not only stay awake, but function in society, work all day, work all night, play a damned instrument and dance around on stage, record for 10 hours with a bunch of people who thought this was the "norm". I hope they're not disappointed when my brain cells rejuvenate and I can actually form a complete sentence. I'm hoping I wasn't the Suzanne Somers of the band - Janet was way cooler and smarter and funnier. Of course, I'd give my left breast to be Mr. Furley.

Where is that damned tupperware???  Oh, some lab somewhere.  Maybe I can give righty to be Mr. Roper.

There I am. The skin is healing nicely though I still look crazy. La Mer is making a fortune on my cancer. Not really - J. Lo uses it everywhere. But I don't roll like that - just face, neck and one breast/armpit extending to back. I wonder if my right side is jealous. Though, she has an actual nipple, so she should just shut up already.

Well, that does it. I'm talking about my breast as if it has a personality. I suppose it's time for bed. Nip/Tuck or Breaking Bad? Don't I know how to have a peaceful moment before sleep? At least I feel better about my own situation after those shows!