Father's Day

Saw my brother for the first time in a couple months. He has a new girlfriend, Lisa, who is a nurse. One time she used the word, "distended" and he was like, "What the fuck?" The two of us laughed about "nurse talk." Jody came over; she comes over a lot ever since Larry died last year. Mugsy, her dog, comes over too and he is annoying as fuck. We all gathered for Father's Day; Abby called and then Sarah called Dad this morning. So much love in our family; I love it. Seth, Mom, Dad, Jody and I sat at the dinner table for a long time, just talking about everything. Tonight I passed on the cheesecake. Tomorrow I go to the hospital to find out my Hemoglobin a1c. Don't want to fuck anything up. No dessert, thanks. Mom tells a million stories about Seth and I growing up. Jody says, "Emily, you're such a classic beauty" and I don't know how to take a compliment. I laugh and thank Mom and Dad for my genes, I guess. Jody is a sculptor and she went to the Art Institute in Chicago. She tells me I have the same features of the women she's studied in portraits. I haven't showered since yesterday and my hair is tied back in a knot. What the fuck is she talking about? Artist talk. I hug Dad and tell him Happy Father's Day, I'm going to Hannah's. I grab a flashlight and start walking. Walking everywhere on campus is the only reason I didn't become obese at school so I figure I'll try to maintain that while I'm home. The night is hot but it's bearable. At Han's, we all sit on the porch, drinking beers and laughing and talking. I just think about how blessed I am. My insulin pump, which I'm wearing in my bra, keeps fucking beeping. I'm low on insulin. But I'm just going to ignore it and go to bed. I still think I'm lucky. Are "blessed" and "lucky" different? I don't know the difference...