Dear PHubby

MOM: Skip this one.

On the 13th anniversary of our first date, which you always remember and I always forget (except this time - 13's a charm!), reminisce with me about the little romantic laughs we've had  ...

Our Love, in Memories:

- The night you scored impossibly on the 19th hole of the mini golf course, after I agreed to let you autograph a randomly selected part of my body if you made it. You were an average mini golf player until then. I still suspect you spent the summer hustling me.

- The time I put my butt in your cheese. (It's cute you stopped putting plates of port salut cheese on the bed after that.)

- Learning we would stay and hang out with our friends longer if we did it before the party. (Seven Habits of Highly Alcoholic People.) Had double-effect of eliminating post-sex snacking in bed, thereby saving your cheese from my butt.

- Drunk dialing our family and friends on our wedding night.

- When our Obstetrician told you never to give me more than two fingers.

- When I made you out to be an anal sex freak in front of my proctologist last week. Still sorry about that, by the way. And I love you, even if you are a dirty ass-pirate.

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your perirectal/vulvar area

Where to start.

Hi. I'm a blogger. And I have pain medication.

It's not as fun as people say, because the pain is still there. I'm just in a less pitiful mood about it.

Also, I got to drink a bunch of barium this morning before a CT scan, and the radiologist told me after the scan that I should drink extra water today to help flush it out and also that my poop would be white. I'm seriously considering taking a picture of it when it happens.

Would you guys want to see that?

Phubby says it will be like dropping the Partridge family off at the pool, and I still can't decide if that's (a) racist, (b) the funniest thing I've ever heard, or (c) both.

So, for years I've been ...

OK, I'm going to be real honest here. I wrote the first part of that sentence, and I know it had something to do with Cat Stevens, because I left this post to go research him for about 25 minutes, but then I came back to the post and I have no idea what I was going to write.

But I now know what inspired him to write the hit "Moonshadow." Spoiler for all you in the midst of your Cat Stevens research: He was dancing on some rocks in Spain at night.

Have you ever had to drink a vanilla barium shake? Because it's disgusting, by the way. I think the vanilla makes it worse. Like urinal cakes make bathrooms worse. My daughter was at work with me last week, and she asked what the pink thing was inside the toilet there. (It's a urinal-cake-type thing.)

I told her it was there to make the potty smell a little fresher. So, before I could stop her, she grasped the toilet seat two-handed, leaned her head over the toilet, took a deep breath, and with a face of peaceful bliss let out a big "Aahhhhh." It was like a carpet powder commercial.

And I still let her kiss me on the mouth. Motherhood is all about having no dignity whatsoever. You will endure any disgusting task, including the monitoring of whatever crud is oozing out of your child at any given moment, just to make sure your kids are safe and healthy. It's pathetic. It would be a pathological problem in any other relationship.

Although pet owners do it, too. We used to have a dog who thought the litter box was full of chewy treats with crunchy coating. Whenever we caught her and called out her name, she'd wag her tail and come out half-snarling, like she was really happy we'd left her so many treats. And we let her kiss us on the mouth regularly.

Huh. Only now am I connecting the filthy life I live with whatever is going on with my body. Blogging = self-realization. I got to see Dr. TwoFingers, but it was a boringly appropriate visit. Still, it's nice to think of old times.