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The Elephant in the Room

So, it's that time again. Yes, this is a personal post. I know, I know. We hate these posts. Nobody wants to hear about my personal problems. Hey, I don't either. But, this is my blog, and I am entitled to do whatever the hell I want, so you'll just have to suffer through it. Besides, the description clearly indicates that "purposeless personal stories" are part of the deal. Heh.

Anyway, I am feeling the need to write about some stuff that is going on. I don't like to spend much time talking about myself because, well, I'm really just not that interesting, and it isn't like my readership is all that expansive, so I can't really afford to lose people to the boredom that arises when my life comes into focus as the daily topic. I'll try not to drone on and on about shit that doesn't pertain to you, but, you know me, and, let's be honest, being brief is not my forte.

I guess we can start with why my blogs have been sporadic as of late. I apologize to the three of you who actually read my blog. God, I hope there are at least three. Ah, who am I kidding, the two of you. I digress. I have been pretty busy lately. Work has been kind of sinusoidal. One day I'm slammed for ten hours, the next, I sit here and stare at the wall for as many hours as I can stand until I convince my boss I can go home. I've been going out to my client's sites (I have five projects for one big client right now) at least once a week, and there is always a reason for me to be out of work at least one other day every week lately. Whether it is the doctor because my ear is crackling every FUCKING time I equalize the pressure in them (sorry, but the shit is getting old, and the doctor says it's just my head being stopped up, and I have to wait it out), going to the corporate office for the day, or any of a number of other random reasons that seem to come up all the time, I'm out a lot lately. My contractors love it. I'm also still going home pretty frequently to see my grandfather who had the stroke. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, see blogs "Crooked Smile, Update #1, Update #2, Update #3, Update #4, and Update #5.)

On a side (and better) note, he is doing much better. He can walk normally now. He can eat mostly normally (small bites, but all foods). He can lift his arm all the way up, but he still can't use his fingers well on that hand. He can talk fairly well, but it is often hard to understand him. He doesn't slur, he just doesn't enunciate well. It gets worse as the day goes on and he becomes tired. But, he's doing pretty well all things considered.

Now, back to the excuses. I've been pretty worn out from all the driving/riding. In the past week, I've been in the car for 15 hours not counting normal day driving. Ugh. I haven't been feeling great in general, anyway. I don't know if it is the thyroid or just me. So, I haven't been all fired up about much of anything, lately, so I haven't been writing much. At least the election is winding down, and you won't have to hear me bitch about that much anymore. I'm sure I'll have plenty of shit to say about Obama when he gets elected. Until he takes away the Bill of Rights and my first amendment right to free speech. Ah, those will be good times.

The big news just hit yesterday (well the day before that, really, but confirmed yesterday), and that is the real reason I've been driven to write a personal post. Travis' dad has colon cancer. Yeah. He's only 62. We go today to talk to the surgeon. We don't know much right now. We haven't been told the stage, the outlook, the process, the plan, anything. But, I should have some news today, and I'll at least feel better when I don't have a million what-ifs flying through my brain. I need to be able to be there for Travis, and, being analytical, I can't do that very well without facts and figures and answers.

So, that's what's going on. Those are the things on my mind. It's obviously a little more important than bitching about a President we even don't have yet. Although, I guess I could still bitch about the one we do have. He's about slap retarded. And, so am I, I guess.

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