Thumb Surgery Today

We said our final goodbyes to Nick yesterday at a Military Honors funeral at the Old Post Cemetery on Fort Huachuca. It was a little windy but the sun was out, low 60s, and a beautiful day as a result. Full six-gun salute, folding and presenting of the flag. Lots of people turned out, and if there's a place to be buried in the desert, this was it. Higher up in the Huachucas, the Old Post Cemetery has lots of trees, animals (including bears and mountain lions), and beautiful, restful views all around. And sadly, lots of company.

I have thumb surgery at 10:45 today, where for some reason, they've decided to go with a general anesthetic. No one likes general anesthesia-- there's too much unpredictability about it. Remember Oliva Goldsmith, best-selling author of the First Wives' Club, in the prime of her life and career? She had a minor plastic surgery procedure... and died on the table. I also remember my friend Dorothy Harrington, who in the mid-90s, went under for a biopsy on a tumor in her brain and never woke up. Yes, I'm having morbid thoughts, which aren't helped by all the morbid dreams I had last night. So.

And of course, since I can't have any, I want a big glass of ice water!

Farewell to Nick...

Another friend went to eternity very early yesterday morning. Nicholas Paraskevas was a coworker, and one of the nicest people with whom I've ever had the honor of working. He was easy-going, pleasant, unfailingly honest, and spoke with a heavy Mexican accent... but would insist it was you who had the accent, not him. I worked with him for the last six years, and The Husband (

westonochse

) knew him for over twenty, having first encountered him in one of the military courses on Fort Huachuca, where Nick was the instructor and The Husband was the brand new student. The students where we currently work always remembered him and were impressed by how much they learned from him. If you asked him (in English or in Spanish) how he was, he would always answer (in English or Spanish), "I don't know." But occasionally, you could catch him off guard and he'd say "Good!" He always had a smile, and he was always friendly. His leaving took everyone by surprise, and he was only 6 years older than me. This is not the best photo of him, but it's the only one I have on the computer at home. It's cropped from a larger one taken in December 2006.

Sleep well, Nick. We really, really miss you.

Dinner Time at the Mansion (or How to Sing for Your Supper)

Who needs words when you can have music?