Time continues to pass. Wednesday would’ve been Mum and Dad’s 55th anniversary. Thursday morning, I learned Terry Pratchett had died as I drove myself to the dentist. I bawled my eyes out, and as a result my pain tolerance was too low even for the water pick. My hygienist, Lisa, was super sweet about it. After that I had to meet with my tax accountant.

Being a grownup? Sucks.

It’s Pi Day, by the inexplicable American reckoning. I was kicking myself for not organizing pies – the line at Mission Pie is doubtless out the door, it was last year – when I remembered that we own the means of production! Claire’s hard at work on her Key Lime Pie, and I have the makings of a strawberry/apple and a tarte tatin, when she’s done.

Posted in fulishness, grief, little gorgeous things, mindfulness | Comments Off on death and ptaxes

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 14th, 2015 at 1:50 pm and is filed under fulishness, grief, little gorgeous things, mindfulness. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.