Data! we want data!

If this were my blog, I'd go on a rant about the incredibly annoying day I've just finished up on, but as I am supposed to be on my best behavior, I'll just say that here is the info that I would have posted three hours ago if I didn't instead have to play a maddening game of "Hurry Up And Wait" with my beloved, frequently enriched-by-me Firestone dealership:

At about 3PM EST, I phoned Mir in her room and let me tell you, I was shocked, just shocked. She sounded ...

GREAT! I haven't been this surprised since after labor when they put my baby on my belly, and it actually looked like a baby and not like one of those aliens in the Weekly World News.

Anyway, it was a very brief convo because her pal was visiting, but my goodness, she's no cheap narcotics date, this girl: she sounded as alert on Vicodin as she would have been after a triple-double cappucino on a Sunday morning.

And apart from the knowledge that she was no longer actually on an operating table, I got little else in the way of detailed info except: she's already had a little walk down the hall, even (next stop: the surgical-convalescent Olympics!), and that her doc said they thought that the state of her previous interior looked unmenacing. Innocuous. I don't know--I'm just a guest-blogger; fill in the good-news adjective of your choice.

Mindy, I'm two up on you, girl. Not that I'm counting ...