It's been a rough couple of weeks here. Shaggy had surgery on his ankle Friday morning. If you have any objection to the description, do not read the next few sentences...

Basically, the doc drilled a pen-tip-sized hole through the lower ends of his tibia and fibula, ran some strands of fiber wire (think fishing line) through it and attached "buttons" on either side. Really, one of them looks just like a button and the other looks like one of those little plastics things toy companies use to anchor the twist-ties holding toys against cardboard. Pretty cool, actually. I have pictures!

If you look at the bottom, you can see where his bones have a gap between them. On the left is the little toy anchor looking thing. That light line between the anchor and the tool to the right is the hole they drilled.

Now, the bones are snug against each other like they should be and he's sporting both an anchor and a button (shown at top left/right).

It was a quick, twenty minute outpatient surgery that took, altogether, six hours. Lesson learned: bring more than one book. Also? Always have a plastic bag ready. Anesthesia and teenagers do not mix.

Once home, we settled the kiddo into his bed and gave him a nice pain pill. Two hours later, it was obviously no longer working. Since then, they've worked on and off, depending upon his level of agitation (not pain, but agitation, frustration, and a lot of other 'tions that have presented themselves here lately).

As a mother, this has been the hardest thing to deal with: my child's pain. If I could have had anything for Mother's Day, it would have been to take his pain. All of it.

That being said, I think he's just about burned up our satellite watching movies. Sometimes, the same movie over and over. If I hear "Little Man" in the background one more time, I'm going to scream. Who makes these ridiculous films??

In other news, my patience - sapped from incapitated teenager - broke this week and I told one of the baseball moms to kiss my ass. Seriously. Lost my shit. This mom has been one of the most negative people I've ever met in my life -- one of those psychic vampire types. No matter how optimistic I am, five minutes in her presence renders me downright snarky. So when she sent an email, griping about the same old shit in slightly different words.... I told her where to stick it. And then told her that if she has a problem with that, she can call the head of our little league program and he can tell her where to stick it.

She didn't reply. I wonder if that means she took me seriously? Heh.

I think I'm about done with the Team Mom thing, especially since my kid is no longer playing. I'm going to stick around for the last couple of games and closing ceremonies but I'm not going to continue through All-Star play. The player agent is just going to have to find someone else.

That's about it here at Chez Dragonfly. Oh wait, I almost forgot! I did finally find an opening and wrote 10 pages today. That's progress.

I've been fighting with a plot for a few weeks now. I have a whole cast of characters up in my head, fully-fleshed out but milling around with their hands up, asking me what they're supposed to do. Of course, I've been telling them, "YOU are supposed to tell ME what you're doing." That's been fun. And then yesterday, in a moment of brief silence while Shaggy was sleeping, it came to me. I don't know that it opens with heart-stopping action (it doesn't) but it's something. A starting point. A good place to dive off into whatever may come. And really? I'm not going to shake my finger at 3,264 words. I'll take every single one of them.

A quick shout-out to Cousin Bubbles. I'd emailed two of my sisters and CB, begging for some feedback. CBubbles replied and what she had to add gave me some new brain fodder, which - in turn - generated this weekend's opening. Yippee. And thanks chica. You rock!

Until next time... have a good one.
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