Pumpkin eyes were on the swings / look away from everything / it seems that what you wanted fell all over me.

I've got a shiteating grin on my face. My dad is doing a buttload of a lot better. No emergency surgery needed. Lung capacity up by 6 percent. I start my new job on Monday.
I'm going out to see the rock n roll tonight.

As always though, the tragic and the miraculous go hand in hand.
One of my oldest and dearest friends' fathers is very sick. Said friend's wife is a few months pregnant with the family's first grandchild.

I'm reminded of how my grandmother's debilitating and ultimately deadly stroke occurred the same day my cousin brought her adopted baby girl home.

And it's true in smaller, petty ways too. I started landing auditions as my last relationship deteoriated last summer. And as my last attempt at dating bit it, I got offered a writing gig and a new job and my dad's health improved.

Such is life. Perhaps it's how God takes care of us . . . an attempt at checks and balances . . . the sick part of me pictures God as Will Ferrell: "Dead mom, you say? Make sure her daughter has fantastic hair."