My father has officially been deemed “out of the woods”. He still has a trachea in, so he isn’t talking just yet. However, he is able to communicate by using hand gestures, shaking or nodding his head, and smiling or frowning. The doctors are puzzled but ecstatic. His heart, which is always going to be somewhat weak, is probably going to have a pacemaker put in early this next week. All in all, we are optimistic about his recovery.
Not much has been going on with me. A while back, we rescued a kitten from a nurse’s car engine.She didn’t want the little white fluff ball, so we ended up taking him home. His name is Beauregard Jangles. He’s a terrorist. He has systematically dismantled my bedroom, knocking all my hanging clothes on the floor, and every morning, when I wake up, I find little wet spots all over my clothes where he tried to nurse me all night. Gross!! How does this one tiny cat make all of this spit??? Yuck. I’d wean him, but he seems to wait for this ritual to begin after I’m already asleep.
I’m presently looking for a job, and have two interviews lined up. Rebekkah is enrolled in college now, and she, too, has an interview for a part time job next week. She’s feeling kind of restless, but there is an end in sight.
We’re all feeling rather peaceful at the moment. I have to admit, it has been awhile since we didn’t have any drama to report. I’m beginning to make new friends around here, and tonight, I’m going to watch Rebekkah rap at a karaoke bar. I love to see that. It makes me laugh every time.
Ella, Bekkie’s dog, is doing well. She hasn’t eaten Beauregard, so that’s a plus. She plays pretty rough with him, and every time he squeaks like an injured mouse, my
butt puckers. He must not be getting hurt that bad, because he is constantly provoking the dog.