#1,576 Floor Hangs.

We went over to my parents to see them tonight, and before long Jim and Mallorie were pulling into the driveway. Unbeknownst to us, apparently Jim and daddy had a date to talk about their financial portfolio investment stuff, so we made it into a “dinner party” with cheeseburgers from Walker’s Dairy Bar. Lucy has started crawling like a little crab (she throws out one leg and swoops it around while dragging herself on her bottom with the other leg tucked under her—a most peculiar method), and mama, Ben and I got in the floor to play with her.

Lucy loves Hooper. Hooper does not love Lucy. In fact, he was repulsed by her presence and green with envy. She would giggle hysterically and grab his schnauzer-stache, he would stand there like a deer in headlights before slinking off, miserably. We found it endlessly entertaining.

Then Ben and mama had a pushup contest. 

The end.

P.S. Every day since surgery, my doctor (who reminds me for the world of Jason Bateman and Michael J. Fox mashed up into one person) has personally called or texted to check on me. One of my incisions had a huge hematoma underneath when I woke up from surgery, so he’s been making sure it’s healing just right. Each morning, I send him sort of gruesome pictures of my incision and bandages. This morning’s text string made me laugh—typical Dr. Moore messages:
DM: “How’s your friend doing today?”
Me: “Smoothing out! Hasn’t bled in 2 days! (picture)”
DM: “#improvement!!! Keep doin what you’re doin!”
If ever you have to have a surgery like mine… man. You’ve gotta get Dr. Moore.