{success is not final, failure is not fatal}

It is the courage to continue that counts. -Winston Churchill

I really wasn't attempting to mislead any of my two readers when I said I would be blogging again. I had every intention of opening my blogger editor each day to document, document, document. Capture every moment digitally in one way or another, and all that jazz. Alas, August happened. Frickin' August.

I won't go into the insane details, but here are the basics in a convenient bullet point list:

*Dad almost dies
*Dad is hospitalized
*Hospital spends great deal of time attempting to discharge my father before he is a)awake, b)coherent, c)feeding himself, d)going to the bathroom on his own. Oh yeah, and they still hadn't exactly figured out what was wrong.
*I spend agonizing hours fretting over the fate of my father, and hoping the hospital doesn't just roll my father out in a wheelchair into the busy street.
*Dad is finally "approved" for rehabilitative services (now that he is cooperating by being "awake.")
*Dad is moved to rehab, and when he finally "comes to", none of the staff determine that it might be important to let this man know WHY he is here at the rehab center.
*Dad promptly proceeds to call 911 several times because he is being held against his will (who gave him a phone, anyway?)
*I finally give Dad the breakdown on what happened, where he was, where he went, and what it means for the rest of his life. He finally agrees to stop behaving like a child and take his meds and eat his food. But, only if I bring him cigarettes.

Somewhere in between all the madness, we found out that we are having another boy! Hooray for brothers! Mikey is thrilled with the "libble brudder" in my belly, and when prompted for what his name should be, he has advised us SEVERAL times that the baby's name is "Dean-two-nine." Or DiDi. I mean, I was kinda leaning towards Liam (short for William), but Dean-two-nine does have a nice ring to it.

In other news, it is September in Arizona, which usually means slightly cooler weather, but we've pretty much had triple digit days so far, including one gloriously horrific day when it was 113 outside with 40% humidity. AJ's still doesn't have their extremely seasonal Honey Crisp apples (which are like 4.99 a pound, but I do not care!). All in all, the stars are aligning to plot against me, but it doesn't matter, because my father is going to be ok.