This was taken on Friday, September 26.
It was 85 degrees and HOT.
On the beach across the lake, a Coen Brother’s movie was being filmed.
The tree on the right hand side of the photo is just slightly showing signs of turning orange and changing for the season.
The toddler in red, squatting down on the right hand side of the photo, a few minutes before was plucked out of the water. He was face down, trying real hard to get up, but was just too small and just out a little too deep.
On this beautiful crazy changing day in September, I couldn’t imagine the sorrow of that mother having to leave the beach without her son, her life forever changed.
Thank God she didn’t have to.Filed under current events, KP, Pictures | Comments (2)
Creating a little plot to grow vegetables has been one of the most joyful things I have done with my time this summer.
It’s not the fact that we have reaped bushels and bushels full of produce. It’s the fact that every time I turn around, KP has found another wonder.
At the beginning of the summer I would find him sitting on the grass snapping off sugar snap peas and popping them in his mouth, then came the basil that he would pick and smell and eat, now the peppers and tomatoes and the carrots that get taken right off the vine or out of the ground, wiped off and chewed up.
He doesn’t even care that everything is a little wrong or obsurdly small or still green (versus red), he just knows they grew because we loved them so much.Filed under Uncategorized | Comment (0)
Yesterday at the breakfast table:
PJ: Mom, moms have a lot to do.
Me: Yes, we sure do.
PJ: Maybe you should become an octopus, so one arm can go to the grocery store and the other arm could make dinner and the other arms could all do something else.Filed under PJ | Comment (0)
Is what KP asked me this morning, while I was sobbing in the Target parking lot on my cell phone, while retelling what happened at my dad’s oncologist visit to Jennifer.
It has hit. The hammer has come down. There is another change.
My dad’s psa levels are on the rise again, along with increased bone pain and stability. The news, and what my father has dreaded most “you now need chemo”, in order to help his metastasized prostate cancer, has come to roost. His doctor told us today, after hormone therapy and then another drug of choice have both worked for a bit and failed, that chemo is next. And he has wanted NOTHING to do with it since this whole ordeal began.
As I found out today, to my dad, chemo = death. His doctor told him that it is not the chemo that is going to kill him, it’s the disease. So do what you can. And with those words alone, the tide shifted slightly.
Oh I’m not here to tell you he’s happy about this next step, but he is opening the door and knows there is not much choice (I think the doctor said it best, your choice is this or Hospice) but to walk through it.
So today, after the tears had fallen and the news had sunk in a little deeper, we did what we do best, we went out to relish the sunshine, get an ice cream cone and enjoyed each others company.
And then, he asked Adam to shave his head.Dad, Family | Comments (4)
After my run on Tuesday morning, I walked down to Adam’s office to say good morning and chat for a little while.
Me: Hi hon, I’m home.
Adam: How was your run?
Me: Good (my nose now up in the air sniffing around).
Adam: What…do you smell something? I really can’t smell anything, which is one reason Adam and I get along so well.
Me: Yeah, it smells like something died down here.
Adam: Really, like what?
Me: I don’t know, but it stinks.
Adam: Is it you?
Me: NO! It’s not me.
10 minutes later, Adam comes up to the kitchen after finishing his work.
Me: Hey, I figured it out.
Adam: You figured out what stinks?
Me: Yeah, you’re right…IT’S TOTALLY ME!Filed under running, the body | Comment (0)