I'm not sure what to say, Connie. Routine is both friend and foe sometimes. But platitudes also feel so empty, too.
Spike's Bitches 48: I Say, We Go Out There, and Kick a Little Demon Ass.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I wish I wasn't July in Utah, I would like to wear mourning.Could you do a black armband? Or it that only for guys? Tons of coping ~ma.
SJ, how are you doing over there?
Shir, stay safe.
In meme news, day three of wedding parties is done. We are well rehearsed. And had a yummy rehearsal dinner at one of the finest pizza joints in the country! [link]
I've tried on the suit again. Looking pretty good! Three piece suit with lovely cowboy boots! The script is ready to go. Practiced it a couple times as well. I think I'm ready for the big day. Let the festivities begin.
was it dates that y'all were wanting recipes a lil while back? Smithsonian has an article on best recipes for dates: [link]
Lots and lots of ~ma, Connie.
Night shift, wandering through and adding my ~ma for the first day of former and new routine. No wisdom to offer, just withness.
All condolences, Connie. Right now is for taking care of yourself, no apologies.
So it turns out the lease payment is going towards funeral-type expenses after all, just as I feared. The body donor program can't take him due to his condition. Fortunately I do have the money, I'll just have to save up the rest towards the cataract surgery later.
I pity the bereaved who have no warning, who have no chance to rehearse, to plan contingencies for coping. It can suck to be strong, to have to carry others, but it's better than being a helpless lump on the floor.
Ugh. I hope you find an option that feels right for you.
Yes, as much as it is a horror to lose your loved one with some advance warning, it is that much more to deal with the sudden unanticipated loss. All in all, either sucks mightily.
Ah, crap, Connie, I'm sorry.
I find myself talking to my bobble-head Phil Coulson on my desk. "Isn't that right, Plastic Phil?" And he nods.