There's no place like home.

It's good to be home.  Mom is doing well post tendon re-attachment and we are hanging out on the couch a lot.  We watch movies.  Some are better than others.  We watched one with Harrison Ford as a scientist curing a disease.  That was heartwarming and mildly pleasant.  Then we watched The Time Traveler's Wife and we both cried when it was over.  We cried in a mourning things lost sort of way.  I held mom and she held me  and when we were done crying  I promptly drove to the nearest Redbox and jammed that movie back into it in an unkindly way, all the while thinking about how it had made my mom cry and it could just die for all I cared (except that it was just a DVD so it couldn't really) and I felt a little vindicated.

Michael taught me a bit about tennis tonight.  He taught me an even better way of gripping my racket with a bit of a downward angle so I am not lobbing balls all over any more.  He worked with me on the correct swing and preparing for a swing while running and then swinging while I am running.  I watched Michael play, and he is beautiful (sorry to say it that way bro, but it's true) while playing tennis.  His long arms and long legs extend, graceful and fluid as he swings the racket.  He has absolute control over where he sends the ball and the court somehow seems to shrink as he works his way around it.  The aesthetic rivals ballet in some moments.

James and I will go for Sushi tomorrow.  We will probably discuss concepts of Zen or something like that.

Dad likes what I cook usually, which is nice because cooking is a pretty big responsibility for me right now.  I am cooking cuisine that is gluten free, harmonious with a cardiac patient's diet (no fat or salt), and no poultry, avocado, or tilapia (Michael just became allergic to that too.)  I have been utilizing herbs heavily and it seems to work out okay in the recipes.