Rose's Cantina

I'm going for a mamm scan today. Wish me luck. I had a mammogram -- they should really spell it MamaGram -- and ultrasound six months ago and the radiologist thought he saw something. They took pictures from all sides -- man, with the size of my breasts wouldn't it be wild if they did this in 3D? Anyhoo, they couldn't definitely find anything, so I'm going back for another blast of rays. I'm okay with it. What's great about the Ottawa Hospital's breast health program is that they let you know right away if there are demons lurking in the old milk ducts. I got to go home with a clean bill last time. Hope for the same today. I used to worry about these things, wring my hands for days before the procedure, lay awake at night with the "what if?" scenarios. I don't anymore. I told Scott last night it's like worrying whether your husband is cheating on you. If he is, there's nothing you can do about it until you see lipstick on ...

It's been a whirlwind day. I'm so excited, I can barely stand it. This morning, we went for credit counselling to try to get a handle on some debt we accumulated while running our business (into the ground) a few years back. Our journey took us into deepest, darkest Vanier (I actually saw a sign that said: 'Welcome to Las Vanier'. I fully expected to see either the ghost of Hunter S. Thompson or Marlon Brando.) Unlike the people you visit when declaring personal bankruptcy, who are all bubbly and sweet, the credit counsellor was dour, inscrutible even. But by the end of the session, we had him rolling in the aisles laughing about the $600 Shyla racked up on our Rogers bill for "ringtones" and our quest for boarders who don't put down "no fixed address" as their previous location. He commiserated about the doggie debt of $3,000 we owe to our 26-year-old and told us his own tale about nearly being put into debtor's prison himself by th...