The great candy theft

My wife is oddly brilliant.

So the kids go out on Halloween and spend themselves getting candy from strangers. But once they tucker out and nod off for the night, she pilfers a heavy percentage of their generic, non-Halloween marked candies. She hides it away in a stash that comes out later, much later.

It appears in their Christmas stockings. She even has a set of Valentine tins they open every February that get filled to the brim from their own candy bags. She once thought to stretch it through Easter, but felt it would be a bit thin.

I'm not sure if I should be amazed or horrified. One day one of my kids might find this blog, and they might find this entry. If that day should ever come, take it up with her.

Procession

Life is moving along. The kids go to school, muddling their way through public academia. I go in to work like nothing is wrong, making sure the red numbers on my chart turn black before the dates approach. I'm training someone else to do it, but not full time as we still need to hire more staff for the main line.

I haven't told any of my coworkers what's going on in my life. Honestly I don't want to have that conversation. So I go in pretend everything is normal. I realize work feels pretty normal, because the few people that know (of course the management knows when I take time off for it, they're incredibly supportive) won't talk about it because they don't want anyone overhearing.

Suddenly I like going in to work. It's become a high point of my life, because I pretend everything is just fine, and I'm amazingly good at fooling myself.

Underwhelming

Ok, I'll just come out and say it. Everything I've ever seen heard and read about chemo says it's a horrid nightmare that's worse than the cancer. We sat there for seven hours while they swapped out different drugs, told jokes, and mused over what kinds of hats would look good on her.

We went home and, well, not much. She sent me out for benadryl. The big side effect she felt was from the steroid they give you when they don't know if you're going to be allergic to one drug or another. She napped a lot. Past that, everything was boringly normal. I spent the entire weekend waiting for the other shoe to drop. She's asleep right now, and I'm staring at a shoe in the air waiting, wondering why it hasn't dropped yet. If I start to think it's all going to be ok, it's going to drop, but it's going to be a clunky boot and it's going to land in my breakfast.

Distracted keyboarding

I was going to write about how I went to RetroGameCon this weekend. They hadn't hosted since 2019 and everyone missed it. Same overpriced merch, a few rarities, a collection of indie game developers, voice actors, a large host of classic consoles in a big free play area.

I bought my ticket back in April, when they made the announcement. It was five weeks later when my wife made her unfortunate discovery. And her treatment is this week Thursday, so I took my non refundable ticket and went to the convention.

I met more than a few old friends, found a few things to bring home, generally had a good time. I simply couldn't get over the looming specter of 

next week

hanging over my head. 

My dear wife said it felt like floating down a river, and while everything is calm right now, we're headed for a waterfall. She thought it was oddly fitting when I started quoting The Emperors New Groove.

Cool weather camping

So I finally got back to Bowman Lake. I like how empty it is, but going at the end of September was a treat.

It was cold.

I knew it was going to be cooler than my usual July trip, but I also forgot that it's cooler down there than it is at home. I wasn't uncomfortable, no. I just spent the weekend with the subtle reminder that I wish I had a hoodie.

Whatever.

The kids enjoyed themselves, at least I think so. They didn't complain as much, and didn't whine about wanting video games as much. 

They always fall asleep early on these trips. They get worn out pretty easily, leaving me alone with my wife and a campfire. Those are always the best.