PA-A-A-ARTY

My sister, Lorie, called last night to see how I was doing. It seems that, although she gave me encouragement for, and even checked out my first post, she hasn't been going out to this blog to see what's going on with her big brother. She mentioned something about a "blond moment."

I got her straightened out, gave her the short version, and directed her here for the long version. Welcome, Lorie. I hope you'll be stopping by on a more regular basis. Especially after Monday when Chemo starts.

My nephew, Jordan, has taken up the guitar. He played a short piece for me last night over the phone that, despite the cell phones, sounded pretty good. It even sounded familiar which is unlikely because I wouldn't assume that a 13-year-old and I would have the same musical tastes. But he is doing a good job teaching himself. Keep it up, Jordan! I regret having let my guitar efforts get lost in life's shuffle.

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One of the first songs I ever learned to play was The House of the Rising Sun. I was in college and still going to church. Several of us spent the weekend at my friend's (Tim D.) house in Indiana, one of the most fundamentalist states in the Union. So we attended my friend's church and someone got the idea that we should sing a song for the service; a song with our own spin to it. We ended up singing Amazing Grace to the tune of The House of the Rising Sun. Yes, it works. And yes, it sounded pretty good, too.

Despite being pretty hard-core fundamentalist, several of the good church folk understood young people and we left feeling pretty good about what we had done. It didn't always work that way.

It was years later that my good buddy, Rawley, requested a 'religion-free' funeral, should he ever proceed me in death, but then surprised me with his musical request. He wanted Amazing Grace to be played during his funeral, but on the bagpipes.

From then on, I kept an eye open for his requested music. When I finally found it I told him about it. I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing telling him 'cause it seemed that too soon after I told him, he had his accident.

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Lorie isn't the only one with "blond moments." If I'm getting up at one AM to take my pain meds, why can't I take my Carafate then as well? This was the question asked by a new friend, a nurse, during our conversation yesterday. That way I only have nine waking hours in which I won't be able to eat instead of twelve.

But when the alarm went off this morning, I ignored it for almost an hour before finally getting up and taking both meds. The dreams I was having were pretty weird. Weird enough that they kept me from getting up for quite some time, but then driving me to get up, later. It's hard to explain.

The scale read 185 this AM so apparently I must be doing something right. Like eating all that 'healthy' food from Hardee's and McDonald's, 'cause I didn't eat much of that unhealthy Chinese food!

To get back to my blond moment, I ran out to the store this morning before taking my Carafate. How blond is that? I'm starting to think I might be needing a keeper pretty soon. Or a bigger chart like Nettie suggested.

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The title of this post mentions a party. I'm having my friend Teo, his wife Amelia, and their two little girls, Angelina and Natalie, over for a play party. Lot's of swinging, playing, a campfire, and some hot dogs, brats, and the like. I may post a picture or two.

I haven't told Teo yet; I haven't told anyone related to work yet. So I hope I get the opportunity to bring it up. After next week when I lose all my hair, the cat will be out of the bag. Folks will know something is up. But friends should find out from me.

So, the dew is still on the lawn so I can't get out and set up just yet. But soon. I need to get something posted here for you. And then I need to EAT!!!!!!

Hasta Luego!