Last night my sister said “this was a bad year for music,” and my eyes got so wide from that feeling of YOU’RE WRONG/INSANE/CRAZY that I thought my eyelids were going to backflip over my head.
There was this one period of time where, at every family dinner, my Grandpa would tell us that he wanted to go see “The Water Horse.”
So for his birthday, (which also happened to be the day that he got released from the hospital after having surgery to remove cancer from his body), we made him a shirt where his face was photoshopped onto a man, hugging the water horse.
And he could’t laugh because it hurt, but he still wore that shirt out of the hospital and every time he looked down he laughed and then flinched in pain.
And that’s my story of how the water horse nursed my Grandpa back to health. (We’re also going to lunch today and I’m secretly hoping he’ll be wearing that shirt.)
Trying to decorate the Christmas tree, but Mom’s got her sour puss face on so everything is coming to a grinding halt.
'Tis the season, mother fuckers!