I still love that song, man. Don't worry, sj, you're in good hands there. I have my OTH, pretty much, I think, thanks to Hec.

I need a stamp like that.

Or a tattoo.

That's a lovely tribute to your father,Susan

Thanks for the advice, all. Corn syrup is yet another thing I can't get here, so Mal's safe from that. I assume I could use Lyle's Golden syrup if it came down to it, but we're going with the diluted grape juice (which he seems to be a big fan of) and the olive-oil-water (which he doesn't mind). I keep telling him "This too shall pass" and then giggling. I need to get out more.

But I just put him to bed, and early indications seem to be that the treatment is working. Tomorrow is my neighborhood farmer's market, so I was going to load up on fruits and veggies anyway, and start stewing/straining/freezing food for him while the produce is still good.

Jen, I wasn't really responding to your comment to Nora (which I thought was really funny, because I remember all too well the days when my child-having friends could talk about nothing else). I was just trying for a little delicacy, as my natural inclination is to be a little too descriptive, probably.

Lovely memories of your dad, Susan.

Job-ma to PC.

I was going to load up on fruits and veggies anyway, and start stewing/straining/freezing food for him while the produce is still good.

Got yer ice trays ready?

Um. I feel I should say hello to Mr or Ms BasketSelling person, whose query wrt improving the gothic baskets is courteous and not unreasonable, and yet I'm slightly weirded out by the abruptness of her (?) arrival. Hi though. I dare say Jilli will be along in the fullness of time.

After she's had coffee and stomped on a few small work emergencies, yep.

Jilli's time is full like her skirts.

And I'm wearing quite full skirts today, go figure!

Hello, BasketBoo-tique! Erm, I'm sorry if I made you concerned about your products, because that wasn't my intent. I sent you email with some suggestions, but my main one: all your stuff is very cute, but some slightly more elegant offerings would be lovely, too.

Blllllarg. Don't wanna be at work today.

Got yer ice trays ready?

Indeed I do. The supermarket was having a sale on them, so I bought a bunch (in baby colors!).

Then my housekeeper washed them and wanted to fill them with ice, and I confused her by trying to explain it, so that today I had the Lord God King Mother of all First-World Problems: I couldn't find where my maid had put the ice cube trays.

Do they have lids or are you going to bag them?

I am making food this weekend - wanted to last but couldn't with Em being sick.

Is it normal that I'm sort of wanting to talk and think of other things? I had a thought about my WIP while I was in the shower, and I want to email my CPs about it, but I'm afraid they'll think I'm a horrible, callous person to even be capable of thinking of POV choices at a time like this.

Just hopping on the "It's completely normal" bus. Also, Susan, you're still far away. I suspect your feelings and thoughts may be more dad-focused when you're back in Alabama. When people who lived far away from me died, it hit me differently than when people who I'd always seen regularly died. I have no idea on grammar or punctuation for that sentence, but you follow me, yes?

I think, for me, it was because my daily life was unchanged. I didn't have to look directly at the hole, so to speak. Even with my own father, it was worse for me when I was at my parents' house, than when I was at my own (we only live a couple of miles away). He hadn't been too well the last couple of years of his life, and so when we saw him, we generally saw him at his house, or the cottage. I still had the hole in my heart when I was at my place, but I felt like I was going to fall in the hole, when I was at my folks' place. Going to the cottage for the first time, a few months after he died opened it all up, again. When my mother sold their home earlier this month, it opened up a new hole, somehow.

Baggies. My sister sent some tiny rubbermaid containers, but I have these visions of opening the freezer to an avalanche of plasticware.

I feel like this whole parenting thing keeps getting more complicated: first I just popped a boob in Mal's mouth when he was hungry, and it was easy. Then I had to remember to make formula all the time. Now I have to make the rice cereal and actually feed it to him (although he's gotten so much better at eating).

I'm actually looking forward to the day when I can just install a Teenage Boy Refrigerator next to our fridge and stock it with pizza.