I know I haven't posted in a while--I have a lot going on. And right now I'm at the public library, so I have to keep this short.

Recital was fine, other than getting makeup in my eye and singing my whole Wagner set afraid I was going to go blind. Cathy and I had a good time here.

Moving was relatively stress-free. Sold the bed and the TV, so we didn't have to rent a truck or anything. Still getting settled in. Currently unemployed, therefore earning my keep by going to the dry cleaners, removing stains from white shirts and making meatloaf for dinner, in between episodes of BUFFY. I feel like June Cleaver. Actually, no.

But the big thing is this: my father has a tumor in his right tricep that the doctors thought was benign, but it isn't. It's a rare, slow-growing cancer currently the size of a fist, and they're operating next Monday. And Thursday they need to do a CAT scan of his lungs to make sure it hasn't spread. I found out Saturday, and I'm still pretty freaked out. I mean, I know my parents aren't invincible, but this is scary. And he's only 47. Everybody in my family who's had cancer died in their eighties. Anyway, I don't think they're very worried--or maybe my mother is making it sound better than it is. I mean, she said he'll probably only need to be out of work for six weeks or so, and they have to remove a bunch of his tricep muscle. (Traditionally they used to have to AMPUTATE, but thank goodness they won't.) There's a chance he might need radiation treatments as well, but they're not sure yet. In any case, I'm going down there next week to help out--my mother is working part-time, so I'll do what I can. He might be a bit too medicated to need much of anything for a few days, but what else can I do? I feel pretty powerless about the whole thing. The odd thing is that my mother still wants to go look at reception sites while I'm down there. Crazy...