now I remember laughter

I wanted to wait to post till I was sure I was giddy with joy, because I tell you Reader, the winter has been a suckfest. I was waiting for the third boot to drop, you know how bad news comes in threes. But Stella's teacher who spoils me rotten with her adoration for my kids, told me I could use her brother for my third thing. He's battling cancer. So thank you Miss K. I am done now. And I will pray for your brother even though I'm a budding atheist. And with the melting snow, let's just say I should give myself the gift of one of those light hats for next winter. The sun makes everything so much better. So does a doofy Adam Sandler movie. So yes, laughter made a comeback this evening. Praise be.

awed and humbled

My mom says she can see that the left side of her lower lip droops just a little bit when she studies herself in the mirror, but I couldn't tell when I saw her Sunday evening. In fact she looked better than I'd seen her in ages. She wasn't even annoying. Bryan and I think she's awed and humbled, both by the surprise attack—it was plaque in her blood that stroked her—and by the fact that she's doing so well after waiting to long to get her ass to the hospital. She admitted that she won't do that again. Hopefully she won't get the opportunity.

xo

when it rains it shits (and other tales from the front lines of suburbia)

Aaaaand my mother had a stroke.

Ba dum bum!

Seriously folks, is this any way to follow up the last three posts I wrote?

Did I mention the lice is back?

Oh she's killing them. Killing the lice that is!

So Sunday morning, I'm standing around the kitchen counter fretting over the looming day. I've got the green light to take myself to a cafe with my laptop and work on the novel, which, and I thank thee o lord, is still in progress, ten pages away from 200 (can she make it?) when the phone rings.
I answer.
"Elishe?" says my mother, who sounds suspiciously drunk on a Sunday morning.
"Yes?"
"I think I had a little shtroke," she says.