Brain cancer is...

..typically an odd and large assortment of things in any one-day period. 

I worry that, because of the format I chose to frame this blog at its inception, I led you to thinking that we think that life post-diagnosis comes in one-day chunks.  It's true that, at the end of each day, we reflect on what kind of day it's been, but, for us,  mostly any day brings a large range of experiences and reactions.  That's probably stating the obvious, as brain cancer days are merely a Life 2.0 amplification of Life 1.0 days.  Today serves as an example.

1.  I woke up, checked out the kitchen counter, and saw that there were more blues than purples in the chocolate bowl:

Logic puzzle: If Andi eats neither blue nor purple, and Zach and Summer eat only blue, who ate most of the purples?  One person in the house is not talking.


2.  We headed to campus to pick up mail, etc.  Here's what the door to Andi's office looked like:

If you know me (Andi) professionally, you know I am a proponent of positive psychology, and my students and I (and all y'all of my colleagues) adhere to a strengths-based outlook.  An outward manifestation is the Drops in the Bucket practice, where each of us fills others' buckets with a "drop" that gives a single bit of what's best in the world.  So you can imagine how it felt for us to see my office door covered with all these wonderful drops.  It's a bit overwhelming, as we've said before.  Thank you.

3.   Granny (LuAnn) came down for a pedicure, lunch at Claim Jumper, great conversation, and  a toast for her sister Roene's birthday.

Happy 80th, Ro!  We love you and hope your day with family and friends was terrific.  Lunch in the OC, on your behalf, was plenty tasty.

4.  As Life 2.0 dictates, we sat in the backyard with a fire in the pit and just held still.  Check out Darrell's cooler-weather hat selection and his spy stance:

Based on responses to yesterday's post, lots of people are thinking that Darrell will appear on some calendar given his mysterious hunkiness, but what does it for me is this:  Before the rain chased us back inside, Darrell said, "Life is wonderful." He meant it. 

More from LA tomorrow.  All the best.