The Bad News:  MIL has a spot on her lung, as big as a half dollar (or bigger) that was not there when she last had chest x-rays, which was fairly recently. (MIL gets chest x-rays like I take HPTs.)  She has more testing tomorrow, but it "don’t look good."

The Good News:  MIL has a new tenant in her senior housing complex.  The tenant is a transgendered "Felicia."  It is the talk of the apartment building.  I wonder if she does puzzles, or if she’ll be part of the 1st floor Anti-Puzzle Lounge Mafia.  The ‘worst part’ is that Felicia goes to all of the bingo and coffee clubs and Meals on Wheels, and insists on being referred to in the feminine.  Personally, I think Felicia sounds pretty badass for rocking on with her bad self in the Old Lady Dorm.

So, as much as my MIL drives me nuts, and regardless of the childhood Dave had, she is his mom.  She is his only parent, the only person he’s related to 100 percent.  I feel even more compelled to procreate, now, if only to ensure that Dave has a relative that is all his.

And, when the end comes, I’ll still have my SILs to deal with.  THe age difference between us and them is great enough that, for Dave, it was like having "three mothers."  (Which is probably why I get annoyed with the SILs , too.)

So, yeah. That’s the news from here.