January 29

After the regular round of meeting and radiation with mom, Bob and Charlie took dad on quite the adventure today: a medicinal errand, as well as a trip to dad’s favorite record store in the area, Amoeba. This combination of errands is exhausting for anyone, and we all expected him to crash pretty hard on the tail end of this trip. Believe it or not, he was moving around the house organizing his stuff (he moves his things from one bag to another to another. Things are *always* lost in translation, making it one of his most maddening bad habits for the rest of us. We’ll hide his other bags to prevent going totally batty) and importing the new album he bought. 

I’m not sure what the name of the album or artist is, but it’s characteristically shitty music by anyone’s standards. I remember dad blasting Tupac on one of our drives when I was in middle school. His taste has since plummeted, and now he prefers obscure, tense, unharmonious inventions. Today I think he managed to find the most obscure, “weird” album they sold at Amoeba (mind you, this record store is the size of a bowling alley, brimming with new and used records of every genre). 

Charlie can vouch for me on this one: as dad started playing his new CD, Charlie initially asked if dad was playing some of his early recordings of his guitar practice. The look on Charlie’s face when he learned that, no, they traveled over an hour just to get to the record store for my dad to pick out this single piece of “music”, was too good for words. It may have even been the highlight of my day. Good stuff, and goes to show that in some ways, dad’s still as weird as ever.

For the remainder of the afternoon, dad relaxed and reorganized. Over and over. As is habitual at this point, he spoiled his dinner with junk food of some form (today hershey’s kisses) before we were able to convince him of eating some real food. Over dinner, Mom, Bob, Charlie, and I discussed a strategy to confront this: just get rid of all the sugary food so that way he can’t grab two handfuls of chocolate rather than ask for “real” food from us. So, though dad goes nutty for cookies, we’re trying to stay on top of keeping those out of the house. Looking back on the previous entries I’ve written, this issue has been dealt with very schizophrenically. I’m sure dad will beg for another round of cookies and we’ll give in. For now, we’ll look for more natural desserts and recipes, so that we’re able to find a middle ground and dad doesn’t feel like a prisoner. 

Dad went to sleep shortly after the Hershey’s incident. Charlie, Bob, and I fixed up a delicious frittata with kale, sweet potato, onion, heirloom tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil, as well as some of Charlie’s special brussels sprouts. With mom, the four of us shared a really nice meal together. 

Today is Miles’s birthday, turning 19. Hunter’s was the 20th, and he turned 21. I don’t think they read this, but this has been on my mind. Those two have been so accommodating and accepting of the little we have to give. I sent off Hunter’s birthday package the day of his bday, and it got to him yesterday. Miles has one in the making – sort of. He’ll get it, though I can’t help but feel heavy knowing that the birthday celebrations for both my brothers have been delayed. Though presents are just representations and they’ve repeated that it’s not a big deal, I’m sad about how little I have in me right now. 

I found this Kennism while looking over his Facebook profile. For those of you who are friends with him (it may be a slim few of you, he’s kept a low friend count ever since he verbally harassed one of my boyfriends), you may enjoy looking back on some of his old posts. One gem, referred to by dad as an old favorite:

Two monks were arguing about a flag. One said: “The flag is moving.”

The other said: “The wind is moving.”

The sixth patriarch happened to be passing by. He told them: “Not the wind, not the flag; mind is moving.”

Goodnight, all.

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