FBH is on hold for a little while, my peeps, due to family illness.
I've often considered how much personal stuff to put in the blog, and have always held that certain things were off-limits, not just out of my own desire for a little bit of privacy in this tiny little state, but because some things are too valuable to turn into grist for the mill. Too important, really, to be written about. And that's not meant as a slam directed at folks who put their personal, intimate stuff out there on Uncle Ted's system of tubes - it's just how I feel about some experiences in my life.
The irony could be cut with a knife.
I'm heading back east. My father is dying. No reason to sugarcoat it. I'm very preoccupied with getting my mind right to go back. And the blog, while an excellent diversion and place to blow off steam, ranks pretty far behind everything running through my brain as I prepare. Bitching about Mike Kelly or musing about the fact that we need to start building smaller houses, well, that stuff isn't that important, is it?
Like every other major event in my life, I'm flying blind, trying to figure out how to behave, what to say. A lot of it is pretty insane stuff, grief mixed with a lot of regret over the fact that we had a pretty rough relationship, that, as they say, things happened. It's manifesting in my spinning my wheels on questions, questions like "He might survive. Is it bad luck/poor taste to pack black clothing?" "Should I take salmon and halibut for the party he always said he wanted instead of a funeral?" "What do I do if he cries?"
Flic will keep y'all supplied with some righteous indignation while I'm gone. I'll see y'all in a couple of weeks.