Saturday night...live.

The party was very nice. I think my dad enjoyed his birthday. He is looking relly good for 64. Obviously I have really fantastic genes.

(For the record, I very much doubt that my genes have anything whatsoever to do with me being sick. I am convinced that I am sick because of the property I grew up on, which was polluted by mining activity in the area. Why do I think this? Only because no less than 3 people have been diagnosed with MS in the same area, way less than a kilometer in radius. I think your chances of having MS are one in a million, yet three people on one farm hit the jackpot. Doesn't that sound a bit fishy? I think I should mention it to the ms SA society. They might be interested in investigating for ms research purposes. Where is Erin Brokovich when you need her?

I loved visiting with my sisters and mom today. Had a really great time. Also, I exhibited willpower that I didn't know I possessed! I declined some assorted Nestlé chocs. Those irresistable ones that are miniature versions of Aeros, Rolos, Texes, Peppermint Crisps, etc. Adorable. Then I passed on the delicious choc birthday cake, and later, at my parents-in-law's house, my all-time favourite, Lammingtons. If I could do that, then I'm obviously invincible. Yay.

Actually, though, it's not really supreme willpower at all. It's plain, good old-fashioned fear that is making me such a good girl. Thing is, my arm is going lame (brand, spanking new symptom). And you know how I said I have to start focusing on what I can do to help me? Well, eating well is the very least I can do. And that means cutting sugar out, before I turn into a diabetic, a serious risk for cortisone junkies such as myself. Seriously, it's listed as one of the side-effects of the medicine. And if I really am gearing up to take a whopping dose, better that I respect that.

My hip is feeling better. Or slightly less screwed, anyway. I'm still counting down the hours till I can see my chiropractor, though. Good people, chiropractors. Should have married one, if I knew what was good for me. Only kidding. Why would you want to put up with a man's sh*t just because he can put your hip back in its socket, when you can pay someone to do it. Crazy idea that.

Can't wait for my order of goodies to arrive. Two books, a Maeve Binchy and a Cecelia Ahern. Two of my favourite authors. They are both Irish. I love Irish writers, Marian Keyes being my favourite.

Then there's two cd's, the soundtrack to Carousel, which is my grandparents' Christmas gift. Also a cheap 60's hits cd, which I bought for Del Shannon's Runaway, which I have developed a little obsession about. Can't wait.

I'm a lot less stressed than I was, thank goodness. I kept clenching my hands into fists the whole time, which I've noticed has stopped. It's a ms thing. My fingers are numb, and that's why I clench them. Just to feel something.

I asked Michael to take some photo's of me, because I wanted to update my user-pic, in honour of updating my blog to the new, improved blogger. So he took the photo's, with me draped over the couch. I had to laugh when I saw them. Thank goodness I never got it into my head to become a model. I've never seen such spastic poses before in my life. Michael took some at a very low angle and I dropped my head just about onto my chest. Which he said was a mistake as it gave me a distinct double-chin. But I looked like I was having a good time, so I included them for a laugh.