I clicked my heels three times...

and now I'm home (after a 5am shuttle drive to Newark, a flight to Chicago with a layover, a jet to The Ville, and a drive home from the airport with my family begging me to come stay with them). Always read the fine print when you buy a pair of ruby slippers, that's my best piece of advice for the day. The cats seemed less than enthused to see me once they realized that I'm not taking them off their diet, and I have a hankering for some aloo palak and garlic nan that I may just have to see if I'm up to driving to get. I suppose I should take advantage of this time and the limited movement I have in my mouth to maybe ditch the small spare tire I've been building, but I have medical reasons not to do so. My surgical nurse scolded me yesterday since they had to take a fat graft from my stomach to put along my jaw line (see doesn't this get to be a more pleasant tale by the moment?), and she claims it was difficult. I don't know what she's looking at, but there is a reason I can't get into any of my pants. They must have gotten something because my stomach is smiling back at me. Maybe I had a caesarian section birth and no one bothered to tell me? Oh well, if so maybe I can get back into the size 29 pants again soon...let Craig breastfeed!