"There are no bad days"

... my father said, after he survived cancer. He said any day you're alive is a good day. (Note: he did not say that as we went through LW's cancer. And I know he didn't think it. Grandbabies aren't supposed to get cancer.)

But there is some truth in it ... that the pissy little stuff is just that, pissy little stuff.

I can remember longing for "normal" so much that it was an actual physical ache.

Today, we went to swim lessons. And the house is a wreck. And I don't know where LW's shoes are. And the older kids and I saw Harry Potter. And we're making plans for vacation, for seminary, for the start of school, for paying off bills, for putting mulch in the flower beds. And I'm never going to be caught up on laundry, not for the next 16 years. And I'm not exercising enough. And I have to go back in the dentist in a coupla weeks.

Normal still tastes absolutely delicious.

Next scans: August 21.