After nearly six months of uterine free existence and ovarian-less living, I can attest to the following:

Hot flashes are real.
Reality TV, a cerebral version of empty caloric intake, is just as addictive as Milk Duds, Hot Tamales, and guacamole (not that I’ve ever eaten such things together….lately).
Fits of anger while in the drive up window of Walgreens is not only normal, but a GOD GIVEN RIGHT THAT ALL WOMBLESS WOMEN HAVE IN THIS GREAT COUNTRY.
Hot flashes are real.
Sympathy for my husband has reached an all time high, even surpassing the c-section fiasco of 2000.

But other than that, I’ve been fine.  Well, fine may not be the right word.  Blank might be better, as I have sat at my laptop many a day to write blog posts only to tap at my silver keys without purpose.  There were times I shared with my dearest Hoss that maybe I had lost my “Tish-ness”. With that thought in mind, you would think I’d plow head on into my dark fear, but instead fell into a mindnumbing cavern, dare I say a cave (only with Paul my hermit friend’s permission) that only informercial orders and online banking occured.

It’s taken three months of tinkering with all natural hormones, none of that horse urine stuff, to balance me out.  Bring me back.  And so now with some testosterone, progesterone, and yes, some estrogen rubbed into my forearms twice a day, I can say to the blog world:

WATCH OUT, ‘CAUSE TISH IS BACK……between flashes, that is.