Just gotta say, my Roycie can make a mean apple cider. I'm enjoying it right now. Tasty beverage. Yes it is.

We went up north yesterday. You can read about it on Royce's blog http://www.royceman.blogspot.com/. It was a very nice day.


Royce and I have a song. Its not a song that we started with at the beginning of us. But later on. The first time I heard it was probably last fall. It is "Better Days" by the Googoo Dolls. Go to http://music.yahoo.com/ar-250811-videos--Goo-Goo-Dolls and click on Better Days under the topic of Music Videos to see and hear it. The very first time I heard it, it was like they were singing about us. It so describes how we are. How we are right now. Everytime I hear it I think of us. Of Royce and me. And how maybe things will be later in life. Hopefully sooner.

Yesterday was one of those days. Today was too.

Today I woke up, with Royce behind me, and my Ryan on my side (he always climbs into bed with us) to a huge, loud clap of thunder. If you have never lived in Phoenix you do not know how rare and delicious an explosion of thunder is. It means clouds and rain. I was goind to call into work at 5 am and add on for an extra day of work. We really need it financially. Shortly after the thunder Royce rolled over, shook me a little and said, "Baby, its 6:30." I said. " Yeah, I know." I heard the thunder and then it all went to hell. Not a chance I was calling in to add on for work.

This day has been wonderful. I got up. Opened the front door, and just stood there for a minute. It was cloudy and cold and raining. These days don't happen very often here. Sydney was awake and her and I went to the co-op. We bought food, good food, organic food, healthy food, to make a cassarole with. And a few extras. We drove around by Mill Avenue a little. Thats the neighborhood we strive to and dream about living in. And you will only understand that statement if you know me - and Royce. The houses are tiny, and eclectic, and wonderful. We will live there someday.

We came home. And I cooked. I put on music. Healing, spiritual, haunting music. Enya, Sarah McClaclan, Tori Amos, Fiona Apple, Dido, Natalie Merchant, Pink floyd, Johnny Cash's "Hurt", and Enigma.

The cassarole smells wonderful. Still in the oven. A little later in the day I worked out with Royce's guidance. Upper and lower body on our home gym.

After that I went to the piano. I don't play that much anymore. But I've decided to make a tape for my dad. My mom told me the other day that if I want to talk to my dad I better do it now, for soon he will not be able to talk at all. He can hear though. And he always loved music. I remember when he would be listening to the radio in the car, he would arrive at his destination and not be able to turn the key in the ignition to off until the song was over. We would sit in the driveway listening to the last few bars of the song - If it was a good song. He knew good songs. We often had alot of the same taste in music. He loves alot of the old classics. Of course, that music is from his time. I love them too. Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, and now Harry Connick Jr, and Diana Krall. I love them. And he had a beautiful voice. We sang together a few times. On Friday nights, when the tv was off, and I was at the piano. Sang hymns. "Great is His Faithfulness" I think was his favorite. He used to sing in front of church with his brother. Now he sits, in some semi-conscious, semi-realistic, half comatose, hallucinogenic, paranoid, quiet, unable to communicate hell. He comes in and out. Sometimes I see glimpses of him. Tiny moments of the man he used to be. But he, for the most part is gone. Unlike with Mr. Brubaker who we could mourn for. His death was swift and unexpected. It was quick and mostly painless. Thankfully. He didn't get to say goodbye to anyone, but he didn't really suffer either. And we can mourn. We can mourn an actual death. My father still lives. He still breathes. His heart still beats. But he is gone. Maybe what I am doing is a kind of mourning. Who knows.

It really is the very saddest thing I have seen.

So I sat. And I played. I've picked out some of the songs he liked the most.
"The Summer Knows", "All the Way", "What Kind of Fool am I?", "Send in the Clowns", "Someone to Watch Over Me". There are alot of them. He used to love to hear me play. In fact, I remember him telling my mom he was sad when I moved my piano out of their house when I was an adult and into my own house. I still have it. Its in the garage. I'm going to make the tape and give it to him. I know he can still understand music. Sometimes its the only thing we can understand.

Sarah McClaclan's "Angel" always reminds me of him. It is me, singing it to him. All the words, really, totally fit.

So I played for awhile.

Had some wine, some apple cider. Warm apple cider on this cold windy day.

It's all good.

Royce got some firelogs. I think tonight, after the kids are in bed, we will sit by the fire. And just be. Just be, with each other.

And we will enjoy this day. One of our Better Days.

And you ask me what I want this year
And I try to make this kind and clear
Just the chance that maybe we'll find better days

Cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings
And designer love and empty things
Just the chance that maybe we'll find better days

Just the chance that mabye we'll find better days.