Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. I have been a bad, bad writer and an even worse correspondent to those who have emailed. Mia Culpa.
My reason has simply been this: the vomits have been back in full force, after a glorious five day reprieve which coincidentally occured right smack dab in the middle of my women's retreat in Michigan two weekends ago, ah, but the God/dess does smile upon a coven of laughing women. But lately it seems, I've again spent way too much time on my knees in worshipping the great white basin (or in the case of one of our 1970s style bathrooms the harvest gold basin). I have been completely uncreative, apart from my ability to combine a wide array of colors in my pukeage ("Look! Those specks of color swirling around in the water are the SweetTarts I had to soothe my nausea!"). And there has just been nothing to say, unless entire entries like the previous sentence provide you with vivid images upon which you'd have liked me to expound more. So, trust me, dear readers, I was sparing you.
However, there has been a sea change. For now, now dear readers, I have sucumbed to the power of my new drug of choice...Zofran. Zofran the wonder drug, able to keep short women from tossing their cookies for an entire day! Zofran. Say it with me. Zofran! It sounds like the name of a superhero. Zofran. Zofran, queen of the universe, a superhero whose superpowers may be, oh, I don't know, projectile vomiting great distances to gross-out her evil nemesis? And I love Zofran so much, that I can almost forget that it costs, hold on to your hats, about forty bucks a pop. Forty freakin' dollars a pill. So, there's incentive to keep it down, maybe that's why I've been puke-free since Monday night, because at heart I am a cheapskate afraid of wasting a single yellow tablet.
Seriously though, it feels good to feel good. I had so little energy for so long. I hadn't gained any weight in five or six weeks. I was weeping constantly and worrying that I was starving my child and then all the anti-choice Republicans would come after me and slap my wrist for harming a fetus and I would be hauled away to Gitmo or somewhere until I gave birth to a child who would be adopted out to a fundamentalist Christian family who could teach the baby "family values," and skeet shooting as I am probably an unfit feminist who will leave my husband, kill my children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism, and become a lesbian.
Sometimes my mind wanders when I've been so isolated, as you can see.
So, where've you been?