Well, the Junta’s summer uniforms are out and they’re super cute. [link]

Very cute. But at 69.95, it would have to be my summer uniform, no joke.

I saw someone at a Starbucks in a pink gingham skirt and thought of the junta. She was with a friend who also had a pink skirt, but not gingham.

Mom still hadn't heard about the mammogram, so she called around and found out there's something odd about it and they're doing further testing. (She probably wouldn't really enjoy that I've posted this, but I'm not sure what that stoic crap has ever gotten her anyway.) Also, the "cold" that N. has been sniffling around with for a week or more is probably a repeat bout of her COVID. Wish I'd asked her to mask up sooner...(Although, at this precise instant, I'm feeling all right, more or less. ) Today can suck it.

Ugh. No Covid no breast concerns~ma headed your way. I almost always have to go back in for an ultrasound after mammograms because of dense tissue.

Mom has dense breasts, also stuff from, well, last time that might show up(Scar tissue, clamps?) She said that taking the picture was a bit weird this time, too) We'll see.

Breast~ma for your mom, Erika. With an extra dose of Covid protection ~ma.

All possible ma~ma for you, Erika.

Thank you. They sent my mother a PDF with the whole dense-tissue thing in it, but she doesn't usually open PDF's without me and I didn't know about this one. Radiation has changed the tissue and made them different sizes...that may be what they were on about, but office staff don't know how things like that sound when it's not what you do all day long.(Of course, it could be a second round, but I'm gonna try not to think about that right now.) Except to say that I think she and I should stop being such...local islands and find some people around here to get support from.(Not just, like, caregivers...maybe they know some people that would, but I mean people aren't meant to do so much alone, and I can't even try to do the stoic-rock-island thing--as in "About A Boy", modern life takes more than two. Fucking horrible evening(that I'm still battling back from) of digestive...implosion, cause what else would you give the girl with next-to-nothing but an illustration of how certain things end up as curse words.(Don't think I'm actually *sick* so much as it's my system having one of its semi-annual 'sodesor trying *way* too hard to reinforce that God-as-Geppetto isn't real--I'm not clear on that. Definite Do Not Want, though.) Hard to live with times when it feels like my own body, well, if not hates me, bears a grudge or something. Didn't sleep well.

Oh Erica that's a lot. Lots of ~ma to you.