Whoa. Big News.

It was a pretty big weekend around here. I didn't do anything crazy like wear pants without elastic waistbands. No, I did something much more monumental: I went to the movies. The movie theatres. In public. It was huge.

My movie of choice? This summer's most critically acclaimed film, 22 Jump Street. If Channing Tatum and the promise of hilarious penis jokes aren't enough motivation to leave the house, then I don't know what is. It was an epic journey to get into the theater - the longest walk I've been on since going to the surgeon's office. For Channing and Jonah, the process was worth it. I broke into a cold sweat from exertion right at the steps leading into the Westhills Theaters; I received the normal amount of pity/horrified/hope-it-isn't-contagious glances; I held up the line exiting the theatre because of my slow gait; and I was so exhausted when we got home that I didn't get out of my creeper chair for several hours, but it was gratifying to leave the house and do something normal. I was a bit disheartened that the process was so taxing, but I'm happy to be making progress: a few weeks ago I couldn't sit upright for two hours straight, let alone in a public forum.

This weekend I also went out for coffee. Not out to the living room, but out to a café. Last Wednesday I went out to a restaurant for lunch. When you only breathe fresh outside air two or three times a week, each outing is a really big deal. Talking to people who aren't related to you, engaged to be married to you, or aren't cats? It's a whole new strata in conversation. I think Marvin and Gizmo are a little jealous that I'm venturing out of the house, but I also think that I spend too much time thinking about what Marvin and Gizmo are thinking in those cute little cat brains of theirs.

On Saturday I went into my sewing room and sewed a couple blocks of the quilt I'm working on. (If your mind is reeling, I did give fair warning that this was going to be a crazy post). I could only sit and lean forward for half an hour but being in a different room was delightful.

The piece-de-resistance in all that I am celebrating is that today was my last blood-thinner needle.

No more Framing. No more bruises dotted over my stomach. My respect for diabetics has increased tenfold because needles suck. They sting. In fact, the longer you have to give yourself needles the more they hurt. By the last week of my anticoagulation treatment I felt such dread of the needle that I stretched out the injection process to take a full five minutes, and I'd start wincing and squirming before I even opened the package. However, no more needles, and no blood clots either.

So that's what's been shaking at the Ross-Hannaford Household. It's pretty non-stop around here. Well, that's not strictly true because I stop a lot to rest, watch TV, look out the window, and worry if Gizmo is mad at me. Still, it's nice to be feeling a bit more energized. My mom might even take me for a haircut this week. Look out, Calgary. I'm going for car-rides.