For Papa

He always called me "My girl" when we stopped by--How's my girl? He probably said that to all the nurses. . . the girls. . . but I didn't care. I knew he liked me plenty good, his most recently acquired granddaughter.

I hope he knew that every time I said "Goodbye, Papa, you be good!" that I really meant, "Take care of yourself, because we wanna keep you around."

I miss you, Papa; I miss the visits that I needed to keep learning about you and from you.

Now I suppose I will have to wait until I get to Jerusalem the Golden til I see you. Hope you're keeping it sprayed up there.

Proof, for starters

See, here he is! My tightrope walker neighbor.

What else? No blog since Halloween. I guess I've been too busy singing and choiring and wife-ing. And reading, some of that too.

I can't think of anything else. Long past are the days when I pulled 6 page papers out of thin air for British Lit courses! Guess I'm out of practice. I'll be back when something important happens. Something amazing and blogworthy. Like maybe tonight when I practice using my dishwasher again--take two. I've never had one before. This new house of ours is full of modern things, I tell ya!