There isn't much to talk about

My typing skills are so poor that I had to go all 'bridge of the Enterprise' in the light turning-on procedure to see well enough to type this post.

Sink light - on.  Crown moulding light, on.  Desk light, on.  Buffet/ha-ha it's a convenience corral light, on.

Now I can see the keyboard, and write.

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Not that there's much to talk about.

Except Kaply died, and that hole is too big to even start to fill in yet.  Here, a week and overmore since she passed, there's nothing to really say except 'well, shit.'

Well, shit.  We all knew she wan't the wellest person on the block (or city, state, country, or world), but somehow she was SUPPOSED to live with use until our old age and we would care for her in thought, word, and deed.

Turns out, it's the deeds that we couldn't do, nor could anyone else, and that sucks beyond everything else.

So it's there I dwell, in the small spaces that allow such indulgences.  Surely, she would have moved on by now.  However, to the eternal-11-year-old that I am, I can't help whispering at the shy corners of possibility, 'what if'?

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Also, I got fired from a project team.

First time ever.

It sucks.

But..moving on.  While still supporting the team in a way that they can gustate.

Which leads me to certain hallway verbal drivebys that say one thing, but mean another, where the certain former team members are concerned.

Busy turning the other cheek, am I.

Practicing is hard, so much I want to smack some people but cannot.

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I miss ranting.

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On the plus side, I'm yet again part of our town's cemetery tour this year, so come on out on 10 May and have a bit of creep under the turf with us.  Many interesting and influential folks are interred not but about a half mile from the Tiny House, so we could make it a party!

Aside from Christmas, and Thanksgiving, and Lake Week, it's my favorite part of the year.

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Tiff out.