Next month will be the one year anniversary of my father going to rehab. Overall he’s doing much better. He drives safely again, he can walk, his diabetes vanished, and he’s not the total dick he became when drunk. I wish I could say he hasn’t relapsed, but he has several times. Then he gets back on track for a few weeks until the next time. I also wish I could say he goes to meetings. He doesn’t and won’t. Long term, I don’t know what is going to happen to him. He also won’t stop smoking around me or J, so guess what? He will not hold the baby! My child will not gum nicotine residue from his fucking clothes. Shit, what a mess!
I’m writing 600 words a day for the novel. Parts of it are good, but I still need to do some major editing, even for a first draft.
I picked the music for my major spring Concert and Sight-reading contest: an old school German march titled Alte Kamaraden, an arrangement of Bach’s Sheep May Safely Graze, and William Schuman’s Chester. This program fits my band perfectly. My school is getting a new principal, which is a horrible thing. We should know who it is by February 9th. This new person better be good, because whoever it is has huge shoes to fill.