Well, I did have lift off, at least?

I went to a garden party to reminisce with my old friends
A chance to share old memories and play our songs again
When I got to the garden party, they all knew my name
No one recognized me, I didn't look the same

But it's all right now, I learned my lesson well.
You see, ya can't please everyone, so ya got to please yourself

"Garden Party" - words & music by Ricky Nelson


You have been cordially invited! Consider this your official "save the date". The honor of your presence has been requested at this magnificent event. RSVP is not even necessary! Wanna come to my pity party today? We can have the oreo/cream cheese dessert my bff dropped off last night, unless I manage to eat it all before you get here. I have milk - there's even some lemonade mix in the pantry if you're feeling adventurous. If not, don't worry. I'm good at commiserating alone...usually.

I don't do this often, but I'm waaaay overdue for a no holds barred, lock the door, not gonna take a bath today, don't care if my lips are chapped, sleepy boogers in both eyes, full on woe is me extravaganza. Do you ever feel like your life just stinks sometimes? Do you ever get the hunch that the stars are stacked against you? Do you ever wonder what the rush is - why are you even trying anymore? I'm there, folks! Of course, I got there in unique Dina fashion. Why, just thinking back....(cue the dreamy music and wavy "under the water" special effects, like when Gilligan used to morph into his dreams about headhunters and how he was crushing on Ginger).....think back.....back....back....(30 minutes ago, at least!)

I woke up. Tummy rumbles ensued. Tried to roll over - egad! I'm being attacked by some sort of transparent, mutant, skinny, 5 foot long snake with a HUGE clear head! Oh - yeah, forgot - I have that lovely drain sticking out of my side. Somehow I managed to roll onto the tubing and I'm accidentally surgically removing most of it all by myself! Let's sit up, shall we? Maybe not - I feel like I've been shanked during the night. Not to worry, a pain pill will remedy that - just give me about 15 minutes and I'll be hip-hop dancing across the bedroom floor. After I eat, that is! All this Tamoxifen, Keflex, & Vicodin has turned my gastrointestinal organs into a science experiment. I'm either growing an ulcer, or I may have managed to artificially inseminate myself with Bella & Edward's next baby. So...eat I will do, then I can self-medicate....then I can hip-hop dance... Ain't nothin' better than a good game plan.

Here we go! Upright - deep cleansing breaths. Don't ever let anyone tell you that getting shanked doesn't hurt! Feet over the side, and HEAVE HO! Houston, we have no problems! I'm standing up! Now, need pajama pants...hmmm. There they are, in the floor. Can't bend over, or else the plastic snake will attack my feet....I know! I'll use my toes to pick up my pants and ease my legs into them one piggie at a time. That's just the sort of mentality that allowed me to graduate 5th in my class, ya'll! Fast forward - 20 minutes later I finally have pants on and have taken enough 2 " steps to get me to the stair case. Now...turn to the side, face the stair wall, and step down, one foot at a time, balancing both feet on one step before moving on. Suddenly I feel like Liza Minelli trying to dance to "New York, New York" after hip replacement surgery #10. Quick, someone toss me a top hat! Fast foward 2 weeks....I'm finally downstairs! Yea! Now....it's time to negotiate (scary music...dum dum DUMMMMMMMMMM).....the dreaded baby gate. Can't go around it. Can't go under it. Don't have enough upper body strength to disengage it.....Someone cover me. I'm goin' over.

I'm short. I have about a 27" inseam and I'm so not even joking. In order to scale this baby gate (it's for the dogs, ya'll - the little pissers are not allowed upstairs), I have to lift one of my legs perpendicular to my waist, extend said leg over the top of the gate, and straddle it somehow. Is there a gun in your pocket, or are you just my baby gate? All this is going on while I am trying to convince my right arm NOT to move one single centimeter away from my body lest the skin in my side will split open and my new boob will wind up in my kitchen, if not across the street in my neighbor's driveway. After several aborted attempts, a few guttural screams, and 15 minutes non-stop of the "Scream" face. I finally wind up on the other side of the gate! I feel like when Dorothy and the gang FINALLY made it to Emerald City and smooth-talked their way past the gate keeper! Woo hoo! Partay time! It is at this time that I fall victim to my own over-confidence. I decide that, due to my superior physical dexterity, I deserve......dessert for breakfast. Darn the arrogance!

Fast forward 20 more minutes. I'm back at the gate. I have milk. I have a spoon. I have a HUGE bowl of cream cheese oreo dessert. I am woman. Here me roar. Well, sort of mew like a kitten, at least. Over confidence is the bane of my existence. It'll get you every time. Especially when you're trying to hip-hop dance with a clear, plastic snake after you've been shanked. I was doing so well. I coulda been a contender! Then, I got cocky. In one horrific moment, my foot slipped, I dropped my milk, my dessert/breakfast landed gooey chocolate side down on the carpeted half of the stair landing, the snake bit me in the side - HARD, and I'm left with bile in the back of my throat - straddling a baby gate with tears in my eyes - holding a spoon. Quick, it's time for a recitation of the Serenity Prayer! This is definitely something I can't change - I just need the wisdom to know the difference.

I won't even go into the part where I pitifully had to try and clean up the chocolate mess using only my left hand. Nor will I talk about how I went to put the dirty towel in the laundry room and found that an attack had been launched at me from the Planet of the Ants. I won't even burden you with the gory details of this dried, scaly patch on my cheek - I refuse to look in the mirror, but I think it's either snot or chocolate - or perhaps a combination of the two. I would, however, like to thank you for coming to my party. You've been a gracious guest. Let me know if you ever need a letter of recommendation. Until next time.....au revoir!