Ives throws a tree decorating party every Christmas, where family and friends come together, eat, drink, and listen to Bing Crosby records. The kids tinsel the tree, and the adults get mildly drunk.
This evening, my book club met at my house. Our monthly gatherings are full of food and drink and conversation. We talk about the month's reading selection (this month--We Are Not Ourselves by Matthew Thomas), and we catch up on gossip and family news. As I've said in previous posts, it's one of my favorite evenings of the month.
Tonight, I had great news to share at book club. My sister, who has been in the nursing home since February, flew down to the University of Michigan Hospital this morning to have her parathyroid removed. The surgery went very well. Before she was even out of the operating room, my sister had her calcium level checked, and it was in the normal range.
I received several pictures from my sister's hospital room. My sister was sitting up in bed, eating potato chips. There are two things in that statement that are remarkable. First, my sister was sitting up--she has been flat on her back for almost four months, too weak to move. Second, my sister was eating potato chips--my sister hasn't really eaten in almost four months either, throwing up everything. So, two miracles in one picture.
It was a good evening. Good book. Good news. Good friends.
One of the ladies in book club recently returned from a trip to Ireland. She visited W. B. Yeats' grave and showed me a picture. I just sort of sat there, staring at the photo. Dumbstruck.
Saint Marty has had a really good day.
P. S. Sorry about not posting last night. I had a plumbing emergency at 11 p.m. A plumber had to be called to unclog the only toilet in my house. It was not a good scene.
|Thanks to my friend for sharing this photo|