2001-08-01 :: 5:07 p.m.

His parents bought a speedboat, in other news, which really cracks me up because they're the least likely people to own a fast and furious death machine like that.

It's got a 135-horsepower engine...not that it will ever see anything over 40 mph.

I still can't get over it. After we'd gotten a ride in it and did dives off the bow into the Gulf, and fished from it and such, My Boy whispered to me, "I can't think of any two people on earth who should not be allowed to have this boat," and it was funny and sort of mean but true cause you know, they drive 30 in a 65 zone and brake in the middle of the road when they're pointing stuff out to you and it's just danger, danger, danger...

but crashing on those waves, my butt flying off the seat, me almost getting tossed over the side into the shark-infested waters, I was so excited and it made my laugh and howl with glee.

When I grow up, I want a boat of my own.

Speaking of boat, thirteen days until I'm lazing about on one, circling the Greek isles with my cousins and some friends of hers from Italy.

And, just to throw in a little drama to the mix, a year ago today I had part of my cervix removed. Tomorrow, the crucial follow-up visit to the gyno. Will Sundaygirl be birthing babies in the future? Will the dreaded dysplasia have reared it's horrendous, cancer-making head again? Will I be decked out in hospital gown upon my return?

We shall find out at 10:15 am, manana.

I feel good, though. I feel like I may have this thing beat. I'm taking my vitamins and eating leafy greens and downing wheatgrass shots and drinking Immune Boosters at My Boy's juice joint even though they taste like hell on earth, and I've quit smoking for good...

This lady deserves a clean bill of reproductive health. Give it to me.

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