It was one of those days where I accomplished all I wanted to, it was beautiful and the dog attacked me only once. He got a bath, my floors are all clean, the house is quiet and I am not craving tequila.
Sarah is staying with 'friends' over the week-end. I am alone for the first time, in what seems like, forever.
My phone rang twice today. Once from my sister who left me a message saying she needed to talk to me, it wasn't just a call to say I love you. Crap...
The other was from my son who told me a knock knock joke that took me 10 minutes to get. He was laughing like I haven't heard him laugh in a long time. It had to do with poop. I thought by the age of 17 poop would have ceased causing such joy. He was disappointed that I didn't find as much humor as he did in having to say poop 3 times. Gotta love the boy.
So... back to my sister. I called her. She was diagnosed with terminal cancer almost 2 years ago. She is now cancer free and is having the time of her life with her new grandson. The call was not about her, it was about my brother.
My brother is 6 years older than I am. I was at his house for Christmas. If he catches me on the phone (which rarely happens) he can talk for hours. The past few years he has always ended our conversations with an "I love you" and if I am standing by him, he adds a bear hug.
Ed's sick. He has rectal cancer that has spread to his liver. What is it with my family that they wait till they practically keel over before they go see a Dr? He was admitted into the hospital last Sunday, he only gave permission for others to know today.
He thought it was food poisoning, salmonella from peanut butter. His wife finally convinced him he should be scared. The crazy thing is, I have this weird feeling that while I'm driving up there to see him, I'll get a call from my sister telling me it was a mix up with medical records. It was the God damn peanut butter and he's just fine.
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