Sleepy Sunday Morning

I wish I knew how to put pictures in my journal, because I have some cute ones. My inabillity may have everything to do with the fact that I have a free account, of course.

I love the mornings when Damon sleeps late. I turn on some music and just sit in the living room and read or answer email or whatever. It’s just nice to a) not have the television or “compromise music” playing and b) enjoy the stillness. It leaves me in a great frame of mind when he does wake up and comes out ready to go do something. It’s interesting to see (I guess I could have predicted) that I’m far more of a homebody than he is. But we’re not so far apart that it’s a problem. We spent a lot of the evening last night walking between our apartment and the Square — we went to the bookstore, the movies (Secret Window) and then back later to grab Chris Ensweiler from the train and go to dinner.

What a pleasure to see him. His Dad had heart surgery a few days ago. I’m happy to report that he’s doing very well. But it’s always so scary. There are possible complications (pneumonia, infection) that keep you from relaxing even after the surgery is successful. It gave me lots of flashbacks to my Dad’s big surgery last year. What an awful awful day. And now he has melanoma, and is going to the plastic surgeon on the 31st to get it taken care of. His doctors seem to feel really confident that this is as good as melanoma can be, but I can’t quite get off high anxiety alert until I know he’s clear. I know my Dad spent decades making bad choices. But now it seems like he’s paying for all of them right after he decided to clean up his act. Which makes me so sad.

But enough of that stuff. I can’t change it by talking about it, so I don’t tend to. Actually, only Damon and now LJ, know about the melanoma.

One more note on that, though, actually. I feel like some of my anxiety is selfish. I mean, I’m 33 and I cannot imagine living my life without my Dad around. And it’s not like I actually see him more than a few times a year, and he doesn’t do anything concrete like give me money that would make it literally difficult. But it’s just beyond my imaging totally to not have him to talk to.

Anyway, really, enough of that…

Perhaps I’ll just sign off this entry and start another one later.


2 responses to this post.

  1. I want a Sunday kind of Love
    Sounds like you and Etta James have it right. Alone time is so much better when there’s someone else in the other room…
    Hey can you tell me about John Gregorio’s show? Aileen and I are headed up to NYC this week to meet with some producers and I was hoping to get a chance to see it.
    BTW – Not to get overly spiritual or anything but you’ll always have your dad to talk to. Always.


  2. pix
    I have a free account. I upload pictures to my personal website, then link to them on my journal.
    Like this:


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