This is for you.

Wow, I didn't realize that it has been over a month since I last posted, but what do you know - I completely skipped March. Sorry, I am so sporadic, I know. I rarely have late nights like I used to, which is when I blog. I've been preoccupying myself with "healthy living" - I can't remember what I've all posted, so I might recap some stuff. Anyway, I have been dieting since November and have gotten back into exercise, and as of this morning, I've lost 42 lbs. I am watching calories and carbs and have taken up exercise again. We bought a family membership to the local Fieldhouse and began by walking 3 mile stretches, and that has graduated to intermittent jogging and I am back on the treadmill. I feel great. However, tonight is a "cheat night." A cheat night of epic proportions. It was a crazy, gong-show type of day, and I was still pretty good about my eating, but tonight? Well, we had a couple over tonight right after supper to discuss this huge entity we are embarking on (I can't explain now, but it is for our kids), and since they were coming over, and since we were still out and about running errands until 5:30, we ordered pizza for supper. I ate 5 pieces - not slices, but pieces - it was an XL pizza so it was sliced in squares - but STILL. And then when the company was here, I munched on chips and salsa and we had wine. Now, here I sit, with a handful of Tostitos and a big honkin' glass of wine - my rationale is that we have to use up the wine. We have a bottle of fizzy shit opened, and it will be flat by morning, and a bottle of red opened, and it will be... well , it will be fine in the morning, but might as well make it a cheat day in epic proportions.

Anyway, I am already thinking of how guilty I will feel in the morning for the calories, as well as wondering if the red vino will give me a migraine which sometimes happens, so all my cheating isn't exactly enjoyable. However, man cannot live on bread alone - isn't that in the Bible or something?

Oh man, remind me to blog about my "infection" following my vasectomy and my freaky allergic reaction to Sulpha drugs, in case I didn't bore you with that story already. As I said, I am too lazy to reread my old posts.

Oh FUCK, my cat is howling like someone slipped a jalapeno pepper up her arse - I am just waiting for the kids to wake up. SHUT THE FUCK UP, PRINCESS!

Sorry for the outburst. Anyway, my life has been preoccupied lately.

One thing I am preoccupied with right now is my friend Margo. Long time readers (and I know there are a few of you, according the site meter, you silent fuckers!) will know that Margo is my second oldest, but closest, friend in the world. You know how with some people you can not talk or see each other for years at a time but when you do it's like you are finishing a conversation you started 5 minutes ago? Well, that's me and Margo. She's really special. We go through phases, me and her. One of our lives gets busy, and the other one gets put on the back burner, but like the yin and the yang, that will change, and we will connect again, and so on. we go through phases where we will talk daily, or email daily, and then go through phases where we hear from each other only every 6 months or so - whatever the situation, we still pick up like a moment hasn't passed. It's one of those really special things. I have some friends I keep in sporadic contact with, but at times with them I think "Oh fuck, I have nothing to say". Not with Margo. We could talk forever, at the drop of a dime, about anything and anything. Do you realize how special that is? Anyway, I haven't heard from her in quite some time, but I knew the reasons for that were rooted in her father. Her father has been quite ill for quite some time. He had a major heart attack a few years back, and from what I understood, he wasn't healthy enough for surgery, so basically, they were monitoring him. Fast forward to this fall/early winter - he was diagnosed with cancer of the bladder and at the last minute refused surgery because they told him that if his heart stopped during the surgery, they couldn't revive him. Anyway, I was naturally concerned with that, even to the point that when I went to the City for my vasectomy, I almost asked the urologist who snipped me about him (he was also Margo's Dad's potential surgeon).

Well, I haven't heard much from her since Xmas, and Chunks and I sort of deduced that this was because of her Dad. Fast forward to Tuesday morning. I am on my way to the City for this training session at work, and I see this msg from her on FB saying she is coming my way today, so look out for bad weather - let me say, the bitch brings weather systems like you wouldn't believe). So I immediately wonder why, and then I see a msg that she's coming to my town for the last time and realize her dad is dying.

Now, since I have been through the dead parent thing already, I of course understand how horrible and epic and shitty and life changing it is. And of course, I am trying to figure out how to make it better and know I can't.

Long story short, her dad died Thursday afternoon, right before 5:00 PM, literally 20 minutes after I left the hospital. I've been thinking of him so much these past 2 days, and I really feel the need to talk about him right now.

Lorne (I am using his real name because I can't find a pseudonym more suited for him) was one in a million. I first met him back in about October 1985, at his house. He lived in this TINY little house straight in the 'Hood in our town - and by Hood, I mean it's like Little Detroit. And by tiny, I mean about 500 square feet. I am sure I mentioned here before how Margo and I met, in remedial Algebra class, and how I thought she was really old looking and how she was from Alberta but moved here to live with her Dad. Anyway, I first met Lorne one October night, when we were at Margo's house and he "pulled" for us - he bought each of us a bottle of apricot brandy, which I think were about 8 dollars each. We were drinking that on Margo's recommendation, and since I was a little nervous about drinking a bottle of a sweet liqueur, I took a Gravol beforehand. Anyway, Lorne comes home with the booze and we sit on the couch drinking from the bottle, and he is giving me this speech about buying the booze and I realize it's because my Dad is the grand Pooh-bah of the RCMP in our town AND of all the north of our province. I am all "yeah, don't worry about it" and I proceed to get completely pissed. I still remember wanting to just curl up and sleep on their couch. Anyway, he was so worried, and I thought it was.... well, sweet sounds gay, but, well, it was sweet.

You see, Margo lived in an Edmonton suburb with her mom, brother, sister, and stepfather. Her and the stepfather hated the fuck out of each other at that point, and she chose to move with in her dad, in the middle of grade 9 - a man who lived in a one bedroom house in the middle of the hood. And she did it. And he welcomed her with open arms. They were two peas in a pod. Lorne and Margo loved the same things. They loved coffee, cigarettes, cars, Labatt's Blue, a good off-coloured joke..... Margo always made it clear that her dad had a drinking problem. He loved to binge drink, which meant that he would get drunk and would stay drunk, for a while. I always admired her honesty. And yes, Lorne did like to binge drink. But in the grand scheme of things, I say big deal. No matter whatever shortcomings people thought he had, he was great dad to Margo. You know how some parents seem to just go through the motions? Not Lorne. He loved Margo with all his heart. He gave up his bedroom for 4 years so she could have privacy. He made sure she had a roof over her head. He taught her more about cars than most of those pimply dorks at the muffler shop could ever hope to know, and he taught her how to be self-sufficient. He always put her first. And he was always willing to lend a hand to whoever needed help. He didn't have much, but he'd share what he had. And he was so fiercely proud of his children. I am so glad Margo had a good relationship with him.

He always had a string of girlfriends. There was something infectious about him. SOme of the girlfriends were good, some were good when the finally dummied up and got out of the picture, but the point is, he was a catch. Margo always treated his romances with respect, and was never jealous. And she was a true daughter. It wasn't about "what can he help me with" but "what can I help him with?" Lorne was such a good man. It hurts my heart that perhaps his other children didn't see this - Almost all of my memories of him involve laughter. He was full of crazy sayings and phrases. He despised pretension and could mock a phoney baloney like nobody's business. He was a great man. Whether on a picnic or hanging out in the backyard, he was hospitable, and thought the sun rose and set around his daughter.

When Michelle came out as a gay woman, I wasn't sure how he'd take it, but Lorne didn't disappoint. He welcomed her partner into the family with open arms, even though he was "Traditional" in a sense. That made me love him even more. In short (I realize this supposed tribute will never measure up to what I want to say), Lorne was such an honourable man and such a great father to Margo, and always made me feel completely welcomed into their house and their family, and I feel honoured for having known him. I will never forget him, and I will forever see him through the actions of Margo, his child who has understood who he was and who has faithfully honoured him and loved him, and who has exemplified what a true daughter is and who had faithfully served her father honourably. My dear friend, I know what you are going through, but I want you to know that your actions throughout the years speak volumes. You have been a great daughter to Lorne, and no matter what your siblings think, he's been an awesome father. We have seriously been blessed for having known him.

Peace.