De-bibbed, ready for action…

For the benefit of the throng of individuals aching for news on my hernia recovery, to whit.  Or, to wit.  Okay, I’m too lazy to google Shakespeare at the moment, so we’ll leave my prologue ambiguous.   So, the hernia is feeling much better.  All the gummy matter populating the gaping yaw of the scar has long since fallen away, leaving me with a supremely desirable cosmetic anomaly. Regrettably, my capability for sitting on the floor with my daughter in order to engage in the cutthroat politics of Thomas the Tank Engine has returned.  If you’re interested in hearing a sample of such an interaction, check this out.    Hernia or not, getting up and down from a hard wooden floor at the whim of a two year old ain’t no picnic.   Since belts are no longer an option, I stand, somewhat sadly, de-bibbed.  Yes, I know, a hush has fallen over the audience – but bibs were just too weird for me.  Too much space to move around in… that “lifting” sensation made me feel constantly on the brink of a nasty wedgie.   It’s hard to describe to a person not wearing bibs as they listen to me.  So let me know if you’re wearing bibs – I’ll buy you a cup of colostrum and we can talk about it.

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