I might as well start writing again; otherwise, I will be in mourning ad infinitum.
Thanksgiving was great. The kids pulled off an amazingly healing event, plus a SURPRISE 65th b'day party. I must say, getting that medicare card was a bit jolting. They had thirty on Thanksgiving and fifty Saturday. Another story about how they pulled it off.
We decided not to bring Abe home for either party since his up time is no more than two hours. It wasn't worth seeing him upset and agitated. The kids and grandkids went to see him at various times during their visits. They brought pics and school work and he loved it. I didn't go with them because I was afraid I'd break up so took the week off and let the kids form their own notions about his condition and his living situation in Alterra.
Still haven't taken Emma to the park since the cold spell. She's getting stir crazy. Hope to get there today.
Yesterday, with a b'day U bks gift card from Lisa, I bought Annie Leibowitz' A Photographer's Life and hope to get to it tonight, though a poet friend's coming over and we may be yapping about poetry.
I especially love the photos of Susan Sontag. She is ill and knows it. How lucky to have those photographic recordings of the last years of her life. Her diary entries in the NY Times magazine a few months ago were wonderful. I hope David Rieff, her son, has the rest of her notebooks published. Reading them makes me feel closer to life.