Who Really is Ann Taylor?

So I just have to ask: who can I blame for this season's fashions? And, I use the term "fashion" advisedly.

Shopping today for a Pesah outfit. Nothing. Several outfits came home, were tried on and were subsequently rejected by the spouse and family. While I appreciate their brutal honesty, I'm still left with precious little to wear that dates to this decade.

And in other news: the radiologist told me one ovarian mass was 2 cm and the other wass 4cm. “The first one’s grown since we saw you last and then there’s this new one,” he says as he recommends prompt removal.

My doctor amplified this view. “I have one opening on my surgical schedule for Thursday morning,” she said. “Afterward you’ll be on bed rest for at least a week if we can do it laproscopically.”

“But I’m in grad school. I have class and I work full time,” I explain. Nope. Sorry. No point in pre-worrying, right. Although I was missing coursework on design and intentionality, I put the time to good use: reading, studying and learning how to use design to create a desired reality. I ended up pondering design-related questions as I stressed about missing class and fretted over how to feel connected to classmates and participate appropriately.

Interesting concept: der mensch trakht und Gott lahkht – man plans and G-d laughs. Surgery and enforced bed rest were certainly not part of my design. While the procedure and recovery solved one problem, it caused many others.

I stuck to bed rest and followed the post-op instructions. I gave up my “shoulds” and accepted aid from my family and my synagogue’s mitzvah corps. Kosher dinners arrived for an entire week. The laundry piled up and someone else tackled the mountain. This is a case of successful design implementation on my part and of my spouse. That and his threats if I got out of bed.

Now of course I'm back to "normal." Full speed ahead. Stressing over Pesach (and what to wear...because honestly tackling the cleaning and beginning to ponder cooking is just too much to bear). Working like a demon. Trying to coax #2 into using the potty. (Even Elmo underwear aren't enough of a motivating factor.) And managing to finish each day more in the hole than the previous. If that's not progress, I'm not sure what is.