A post in which I have dinner out with the 'rents

I try very hard to see my dad and Eve at least once a week. It's usually on Tuesdays. It started because my friend dana lives with her mother, whom she loves very much, but who can be a difficult person to get along with at times. I thought that if dana could live with her mom, I could see my dad once a week.

Things have gone pretty well. Since I see him more often, there isn't so much pressure on when I do see the two of them. I was really glad I started doing that before I was diagnosed, because he knows that I didn't start coming to see him just because I thought for a while that I might be dying. Cancer had a strange effect on our relationship. I think that it took Dad thinking he might lose me to put some things in perspective. We had a talk during treatment that I wish we'd had years before. We're closer than we have ever been in my life, and we have a greater appreciation for each other. I've heard things from my father over the last couple of months that I never thought I would hear. I have thanked God for letting us both live long enough to get to this point. I have friends whose fathers have died without resolving things between them. Getting to resolve things with my dad is a great blessing.

When I got to the house, Dad was still back in the bedroom. That worries me. There are a lot of times now when Dad just doesn't get up, which of course worries me. He usually rallies when I come over though, and I was glad that he was up and ready, and prepared to go to supper with us. If nothing else, it does him good to get out of the house for a bit.

We went to Carrabba's, a place that I wasn't too impressed with when it first opened, but since then I've developed quite a taste for their food. That Pasta Weesie they make is just gorgeously delicious, although of course it is packed with fat and calories. But then most good things are. But that's my dilemma with going to supper with my dad. Although I think it does him good to get out of the house, I know that his pretty disastrous food choices don't do him any good at all. His health isn't great already, so it's kind of an impossible choice. It really doesn't feel right for me to critique his dietary choices when a) I'm eating something just as bad usually; b) he's paying for dinner; and c) it feels mean to take the pleasure out of food when that's one of the few left to him. Plus when I say anything, it just pisses him off. And he is, after all, a grown 65-year-old man, right? So I take the path of least resistance, say nothing, and feel vaguely guilty about it later. Oy.

In other news, Logan confirmed for boy time Thursday night, so last night was my only night at home. I'm kind of conflicted about that too. On the one hand I love having stuff to do, and keeping on the go doesn't give me time to get broody, but on the other hand I wonder if I'm filling my life so full that there isn't room for a possible boyfriend, should one present himself. Since the field isn't exactly crawling with candidates at the mo, I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. Not to mention that I should get this port out and finish up this health crap before I try to start anything anyway, I guess.

After supper we went back to the house and visited for a while before I went on home. It is good to spend some time with them.