I planned to write a nice long post Friday afternoon, but that didn’t happen. I got home that sunny afternoon and my mom called me, sobbing on the other end of the phone. My 84 year old grandfather is not doing well. I knew he went into the hospital Wednesday night, but you just get used to people recovering, so I assumed he would.

My grandfather is a walking marvel of modern medicine. He has a pace maker, a defibrillator, a metal plate somewhere in there. He survived prostate cancer. He has been a pipe smoker his whole life. And he has lived with congestive heart failure for awhile now. But he will not be recovering from this latest decline in his health.

I spent all day yesterday up at the hospital with my mom and grandmother. I don’t think this will be a long… well, I don’t think it will be long.

My best friend Erika was in town and she stole me away last night, which got my mind off things and left me with a slight headache this morning. I might write more about that later. I might get some garden work done today. I might retreat to my ceramics studio and cry while I throw some clay. I’m just playing every minute by ear. And hopefully I will write more in the next day or two. And Jay leaves town this morning for a week, which we both agree he should still do. Sigh.

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