We are still unpacking which is taking the majority of our time. Next to that we have been fixing random things on my car so that we can put it up for sale. We are all about downsizing, and simplifying. Although I would love to drive again, the soonest would be early September (stupid seizure). I've been keeping little Rosemary, my 2000 explorer because she's paid for, and of course, I love her. However, we really only need one car. And if I do start driving there's an amazing service called Car 2 Go, so I can always find a way to do what I need. If I wouldn't have had the seizure in March, it's possible I may have started trying a few little trips on side streets. I'm apprehensive about driving and that's why I haven't pushed it these past few years, but with the restricted ketogenic diet (started at the end of March - after the seizure), I feel like a whole new person. My body feels better, my mind is clearer, I even have more energy. Granted, I'm still not interested in highway or interstate driving, but slow sweet little old lady driving for an errand or two sounds pretty dang appealing.
I'm still absorbing the MRI results. Sometimes I realize I'm even holding my breath. I quickly inhale, then tip my head back, closing my eyes, and I say a little thank you for this amazing gift. The glorious gift of life that never ceases to amaze me. And it's mine. This is my life! Wow. I am alive and breathing and I love and I receive love. What a beautiful thing. To breathe fresh air, and laugh, and dance, and talk to my bro on the phone, or barely escape peeing my pants from Dan's tickles. To make tea in the morning and think of Dan's mom because she bought me a beautiful turquoise tea kettle, or the multitudes of phone calls to my parents each day just to share a stupid story about a plant, or to check in. (The fact that they still answer my calls is a miracle.) The contagious laughter from quips of my friends, with hilarious YouTube videos, their hugs, their kindness. The support I've received from blog readers - I don't know how you do it, no one has ever said anything mean (and truthfully, if you did, I don't remember...), and I know I write some ridiculous things. I just feel grateful. I know I'm cheesy, but I can't help it.
Having come from deep fear when we have watched Hermie grow, I must say that I am eternally, exceptionally, unimaginably thrilled and humbled by the ability to enjoy and live this extraordinary life.