Okay, I'm back from Denver. Baby Girl is officially a college graduate with a job, an apartment, and Sallie Mae is her new BFF.
I have a great fire-related post from my Denver trip, but here in Bedrock, I won't get my pictures back from Wally World until Friday. So hang on until then. Yabba Dabba Do.
I have taken the day off from work tomorrow - originally, my Denver trip was a day longer, until I saw my checking account balance. As sleeping in the park on 18th St was not an option for me and my children, the trip was modified accordingly; but since the vacation day was already approved, I'm loafing. So I told SP this afternoon that since I'm not working tomorrow, I give him permission to take a day off from cancer and to spend the day acting normal. Then at some point during the day, we are having one of those "Coming to Jesus" talks that we really, really need to have NOW about my imminent unemployment. I told him I felt like his dominatrix, which he thought was funny. Then again, he's on a lot of meds - everything I say now is side-splitting, incredibly sweet, or profound, depending on the topic.
Lesson #45 in my "Loving a Terminally Ill Guy" lifestyle: If you want to feel really, really clever, funny or profound, have a lot of 2-minute conversations with a guy on morphine.
I should write a book.