Jackson is nicer than me.

Yesterday as I was driving an asshole cut me off on the highway. Instinct kicked in and I yelled at the other driver, as if he could hear me, "You suck, mister!" Jackson was intrigued.

HIM: Who sucks mama?
ME: That guy in the white car who just cut me off. He sucks.
HIM: He doesn't suck, mama. He just wanted to pass you. That's all.

My son is more moral and/or pragmatic than I am.


I have appointments next week for the echo of my heart and the lung function testing. Though I am sure it will be tedious, I am glad to get them done. Hopefully they can rule out everything serious and figure out a treatment plan to get me breathing better.

And that can't be soon enough because I have been feeling like a lump on the couch lately. Have put on a couple of pounds and can feel my body crying out for some exercise. Seriously, I feel like doing some crunches and exercising my arms and legs. Only I get so worked up without much exertion, heart pounding and breathing heavy, that I feel I need to wait to get doc permission to exercise. So maybe after next week and can make an effort to, well, make an effort and get my ass off the couch.