See what happens when I am not bored off my gourd to the point of being dangerous in class?
OK, so there's dead cats, replacement Brillo-pad cats off dead women, camping, games nights, air guitar competitions, and more to talk about, but let's just chuck all that for the much quicker topic of:
Thank You, Friends
Many of you called or texted me to see how my dad's surgery went.
I am happy to report that all went swimmingly. After an excruciating pre-surgery, full-family "celebratory" meal (think: celebration of his life in case he DIED, I believe was the typically uplifting idea) and after waiting over 6 hours to see him post-op, we were allowed in pairs into the recovery room to find my very cute little dad, all blinky and bleary and drugged. A certain unnamed relative, in the usual display of poor timing and thought-to-voice control, managed to queasify the anesthesia-laden pop by first suggesting that once he get out of the hospital they come BACK to the hospital to sit in the library chairs looking at the exquisite view and eat at the CAFETERIA because it was so scrumptious and then describing in detail the potatoes while the cute little dad turned progressively greener. Sweet. Once said person was ushered out, all returned to status quo, and true to form, in the space of our two minute visit, Cutest Pops in the World told a fairly bad joke (not like made a funny statement, I mean told an actual joke), laughed, pressed his meds button, and fell asleep. Cute.
So thanks for the hollerin. We are all good.
2 comments:
My dad was in the hospital for something very very serious almost three years ago, so I can sympathize with certain unnamed relatives that you just want to look at and say,
"Are you freakin' crazy?"
At least, that was my expreience, anyway.
Glad to hear your dad is doing well. Hope to see you soon at A and Aa's, whenever that will be?
And, not to seem insensitive or anything, but...
Tag - you're it!
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