My bad

Being new to this blog thing, it sure is easy to come up with other shit to do rather than write here, well, I didn't life did.

A week ago Friday, I had absolutely nothing to do...not one thing.  So we headed out to the opposite end of town to enjoy a drive through the neighborhoods in the sun.  We took Caesar Chavez till you couldn't any more, got turned around back and forth, minimal yelling occurred, it was a gorgeous day.  We decided to take full advantage and go in the Goodwill outlet, commonly referred to as "the bins."

Bin after bin of shit they couldn't sell at goodwill, or was too dirty to sell, or didn't work etc.  They tell you it's all by the pound but, it isn't.  Everything I found that I liked was on a giant menu board reminding me, that, everything is priced per pound...except the shit "you" picked out.  A new bin of just shoes was introduced to the hordes of piranha.  Small shop owners, crackheads, old people, young people...basically Skidmore fountain on Saturday gathered around waiting for the wheels to be chocked, so they could begging feeding.

What a sight!

A few minutes later, my phone rang, not a number I know, but it's close.  I couldn't get to the call in time so I went to listen to the voicemail.

My heart sank.

It was my step-dad.  Not current step-dad, or previous one...fuck, I lost count, it was the first one, the one that I spent every day after school with, the one that taught me my hands were made to play guitar.  Told me I was smart, that masturbating wasn't dirty, and he would love me no matter what.  When he found out I was gay, and not from me, he was hurt a bit, but understood my reflectance.  He was calling to tell me that he was dying, and didn't have much time.  As hard as that is to hear, it was the first time I had ever considered how hard that would be to tell someone.

So, needless to say, I am flying back to Indiana for a few days.  Hang out with the old man, play some guitar, cook some kick-ass food, have a drink...a last hurray, but I would much prefer this than a "you need to book a flight for a funeral"  call.  When I told him I was coming, he sounded so much better, that maybe he is trying to clear things up so he can go more easily, or that he is just stoked to see me.  Either way, it feels good, which I know is selfish and bullshit...I'm good with it.

So 2 days after this, Baxter's health takes a dive bomb...in a scary way.  Laying on his side, throwing up, no strength, eyesight, or bowel control, it didn't look good.  So we took to feeding him , like we did when gus was a baby, pumpkin, mixing the food with pumpkin soothes the stomach....and 4 days later, this 14 year old cockerspaniel is playing and wagging his tail again!