Crying

Jennifer's wig came in and she got it fitted today. She looks better than she has in a long time, and the glow's not all coming from the outside. The wig and the lipstick and getting to get out of the house for something other than to be poked, scanned or asked to pee, it all did something important for her. Joe put on the lipstick. (She said he did it because "He's a fancy kind of a guy." She wasn't being intentionally ironic.) I teared up when I saw her. I tell you, I love that guy.

The visit to the doctor pissed her off. (It wasn't his demeanor or his ignorance -- this one seems to have a clue -- it's just the news wasn't what she would have liked.) I think it's about time she got pissed off. A healthy dose of anger will give her permission to not be so passive, so when the doctors say to do this or that, she might say "why?" and "what are the alternatives?"

Jennifer is kind and thoughtful in the extreme. I could use a bit more of her, and in this one case, I think she could use a bit more of me. (There's a great book, "Getting in Touch with Your Inner Bitch." Not that I needed help with that. It did make me feel better about myself. Now I need a book called "Getting In Touch with Your Inner Adult" or "....Your Inner Nice Person.")

The dog's on a special diet. It's forcing me to clean my house to get rid of the stashes of crackers and such. It's everywhere, with the kids hauling stuff around all the time. Underneath the couch cushions, in the toy box, etc. One way or another I guess the house will get clean. Maybe.

Tonight's the Art Walk. Richard Layne has some photos at Montana Book Company, and Susan Clark has some fine art on display somewhere. (Don't have the program yet, but will be sure to check it out.) Both are quite talented.

Shawn is DJing tonight at the Cube and Justin's band Sharktopus follows. He's playing synthesizer. Five bands for five bucks. Such a deal.