The title of this post reminds me of that line in Austin Powers where he says, “what can you tell me about my father’s where… abouts?”

1. Our one-night honeymoon. The Accountant and I went on an adventure this past weekend.

2. My dad, and the latest on his condition.
I’m deliberately holding off on that for a little while longer, but for now I will say he’s home from the hospital and feeling pretty good.

3. The things I have learned in the past year with The Accountant. I’d be lying if I said we both haven’t learned A LOT about each other and relationships.

4. Wedding recaps. I swear they’re coming! I still have the rehearsal, girls’ night, wedding morning/preparations, ceremony, photos, reception, aftermath and BBQ to share with you.

5. Conversations With The Accountant. Football season is approaching, and with it, negotiations about TV time and whether or not he can actually monopolize our living room for 11 hours every Sunday.

6. Therapy. I went for my quarterly “top up” two weeks ago. Since the last time I saw her, I’ve gotten engaged, moved in with The Accountant, went on sick leave from a job, quit that job, started a new job, dealt with my dad being diagnosed with a terminal illness, and gotten married. Yeah, I’d say it was time for that top up!

7. Perpetual Exhaustion. I feel rested, oh, NEVER, no matter how much sleep I get.  Also, I rarely sleep anymore anyway.  It’s starting to wear on me.

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One down

by Kate on August 24, 2010

The Accountant and I have a 70-year contract: we’ve committed to spending 70 years together, and then we can trade in for the newer models.

Today is one year to the day since we met, and since our lives changed forever.

Only 69 more to go!

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Quote of the day

by Kate on August 21, 2010

My dad was moved from the ER to a private room on the Oncology floor late this afternoon. He has his own washroom and shower, and now although he won’t have any roommates (he got to know the relatives of his roommate last week) when machines beep in the night and wake him up, at least they will only be HIS machines and not those of two other people as well.

Today I walked in and admired the room.

Me: “Dad, you upgraded!”
Dad: “Yes, well, you know I only travel First Class.”

Truer words have never been spoken. When his dinner arrived, we wondered why he hadn’t been served a Champagne Cocktail, since that’s what he used to get when flying First Class.

He feels pretty rotten, but he’s still got a sense of humour (read: he’s still a smart ass!). It’s good to see.

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