everything turns out right

Used to be, you heard the word mass, it meant an elite fellow wearing a white coat and intoning Latin phrases was gonna take a bit of your money, hand you magically created body and blood, keep you out of hell, declare you saved, so you can live eternally. Nowadays, you hear the word mass, it means an elite fellow wearing a white coat, intoning Latin phrases, is gonna take all your money, remove some of your own body and blood, put you through a year and a half of radiation and chemo hell, declare remission, then you die in five years.

Last month, an elite fellow told Bearswatter she had a mass between her spine and throat. Sposed to be why she keeps losing her voice and has trouble swallowing. Last week got a hightechscanogramograph with dye. Turns out it's just her carotids. Some bizarre birth defect sent those arteries in behind her throat instead of the usual side routes. They can go in surgically and... NO! Stop right there doc. Them are her brain feeders. How bout let's just don't mess with them.

So we had a pretty good week, we thought. Celebrated Saturday by eating out. Not enough, had to eat Mexican breakfast out Sunday. Buy some of those spensive fragile glass whatthehellisthatfors girls love to put on a shelf, from an antiques guy. Still not enough, yesterday bought the grandson in Utah a laptop he can pick up at his local Best Buy, then ate Mexican dinner. We're feelin good.

Then this afternoon, a grand-daughter out in Utah goes into labor. Fore ya know it, seven pounds nine ounces, 19 inches, all parts wiggling as advertised.

Last Tuesday? Ya think? Not nearly so cool as this Tuesday.