A few months ago, when my dad invited us all down to South Carolina for Christmas, we were all skeptical that he'd live that long. And we had reason to be. Untreated acute myelogenous leukemia type M0 typically kills people in 2-8 weeks. It has been almost 17 weeks since my dad was brought home in an ambulance and groomed for an autumn funeral. Yesterday he worked in the yard all day, went to church and did a little last minute Christmas shopping. In his cowboy hat:
All those months ago, I said I would post my picture if he lived until Christmas. If you see this and you realize you know me, don't tell me, especially if you are planning on criticizing me for foul language or meanness to my step mother or basically anything else. You know I am only doing it because my dad is a medical unicorn and you know, I think he wanted to shame me into doubting his will to live by living and then making me post my picture. On my blog. That he doesn't even know about. Huh. I have confused myself. So here, not like it matters, and not like anyone cares, I am:
Preview of things to come:
The above picture is outta here by dusk today, so that you can look forward to. Also, I am writing a 5 post series on "Christmas Eve at Familia Leta" because it was ... just awesome. On a number a levels. Well, five, actually, and I'll tell you about the first tomorrow.
(Merry Christmas if Christmas is your thing. If it's not your thing, have a quiet and restful evening and the rest of us will get back to out after we've toasted to the baby Jesus, that is. after we've ingested enough chocolate and baked brie and cheerful-making drinks to make us feel like typing tomorrow.