One Year

One year ago today, my dad went into surgery for prostate cancer. 

He's doing well. He's a strong and stubborn man, my father. 

A few weeks before the surgery is when he told me had cancer. It was after we had played a round of golf. We were sitting in front of the pro-shop at the executive course by the fairgrounds. He was standing up, cleaning his sunglasses and I was sitting down on the bench when he told me, "Rach, I have cancer."

It took a second to process and then I started to cry. I couldn't believe it, I didn't want to believe it, it had to be some crazy Yaqui Indian test. 

I told him, "NO. You don't."

"YES, I do." he replied. 

I know that there were other things said; questions asked and answered. He told me to stop crying. I did. Mostly. 

I was scared. Not for me. For him. Okay, maybe a bit for me.  

We drove down the road, in our own vehicles, to the Denny's by the freeway. I sat facing the window. In the parking lot that the Denny's shared with the hotel there were Florico dancers and Mariachi's getting ready to go somewhere. We talked about treatment. It would be surgery. I stated that I would move back home with him while he recuperated. Six weeks, six months, I didn't care, I was going back home to be with him. We ate breakfast, drank our coffee, talked about business. I teared up but didn't cry. It was almost normal.

We went our separate ways. 

I called my mom. I started crying again. You know that cry where the sobs are wracking your body and you can barely breathe? I was fighting that type of crying. I told her, I told my step-dad (who has been in my life almost as long as I can remember and who has been nothing but wonderful to me, despite the amazing asshole I was while growing up.). He offered words of encouragement and made me feel a little better before he handed the phone back to Mom. Mom also gave me words of encouragement. She heard me crying and asked me "Where are you?" 

"I'm on the freeway." I replied through my tears. 

"You're driving?"

"Uh-huh."

"And talking on the phone. And crying." 

"I'm multi-tasking." I say, laughing a bit through the tears.

It's been a year since The Surgery. Dad says he's going to start training for a 5k in October. It's on my birthday. 

I'm a lucky, lucky girl. 

The Brown Castle

Hey old girl.

I knew you once. I recognize you but you're not the same.

I've walked the halls and you're no longer the school that I grew up in. 

The stairwells and halls that I walked as an intimidated freshman and as a confident senior. 

The lockers in the basement with the locks that always gave me grief, the windows where friends would meet in the mornings and lunch to discuss the day, music, the people, the events and non-events alike. 

The Bowl where I had to bring 300 fellow cadets to attention with only my little lungs.

The courtyard where I was able to salute our Flag while hearing Taps played by two trumpets and a 21 gun salute that never failed to bring tears to my eyes. 

The courtyard where I jumped into a fight and got my head slammed into a bus. 

It's all there but the minutiae that was part of the memories is gone. 

You've been given a facelift, your insides have been re-arranged, you've been given the chance to continue to be a part of history. Personal and otherwise. 

sad but true

I'm listening to the rock radio station in Seattle. 

I'm playing bejewled. 

Metallica has announced North American tour dates. 

I am a content girl. 

I will be super happy if I can score tickets to the show in October. 

*Happy Dance*

I ran the race this morning. 

One of my coworkers picked me up at the butt-crack of dawn. The sun was still waking up while we were driving to the race site. This race was at South Mountain park, it's a beautiful park and there's been enough rain lately so the smell of creosote was pretty strong. I'll take the desert smelling like creosote rather than dust like it usually does. 

My dad met me at the park, it was nice knowing there was someone there to meet me at the finish.  

For not ever running a race before I'm pretty proud of myself. I kept my own pace and thankfully my body didn't give me too much grief (during the run anyway, tomorrow could be a whole other ball game). 

My official race time? 34:23. 

I did it! 

Trying to relax

1. Month to month :: bills


2. Adjusted :: back


3. Prank :: not so much


4. Mop :: of hair


5. Clarity :: mind


6. Parenting :: not for me


7. Glenn :: forest


8. Fingerprint :: just me


9. Pineapple :: juice; daycare


10. Attorney :: no life

The race is tomorrow morning. I'm ready as I'm going to be. I feel that I will do well, depending on the overall outcome, I may be running an even longer distance in January. 

Random

"If we cuss, are you going to turn us in?"

I had this asked of me when I visited the store I was going to be working at when I first started with this company. I had just been introduced to the three or four warehouse guys, on my way in to meet the counter guys and store manager. The guy who asked it? A guy about my fathers' age, give or take a few years, who worked in the warehouse.

All I could do was laugh. I told them of course not, I had grown up around the military and I had dated a sailor. I can cuss a blue-streak with the best/worst of them and occasionally forget my manners and do. Out loud. 

Mom, I know you're proud and Wood, I learned half of the choice phrases from you. I think mainly from when you were driving the Bug. ;)  

Who wants this with their toast?

Only in the Desert

There's a nice steady rain here in my part of the Valley. 

The thunder is rolling in the distance, the lightening flashes in the sky, not at all a menace but a welcome gift. 

I'm getting ready to sit on my porch and enjoy the weather. 

Only in the desert do people sit on the porch to watch it rain.