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Ok, have a seat. This is going to take a little longer than my heavily-edited moderately-stilted prose attempts at wit, wisdom, and condensed life experience. That stuff falls flat more often than not, anyway.

Some things have happened over the past few days that knit themselves into a little ball that I feel the need to tug the strings of. You know that part in a TV show where you know it’s the season finale because you can just feel the writers pulling hard at these strings they’ve strung between characters? I always imagine a sweater, and you have a hold of a few of the pieces and you keep pulling and the fabric is bunching and warping in places. You really see how it is all connected. Ok, this is possibly not edited enough. Starting again…


The Trapeze Swinger

We all had an impossibly difficult weekend because my Dad was diagnosed with Waldenström’s Macroglobulinemia (WM), a type of non-Hodgkin lymphoma. Going into the weekend, we were expecting a cancer diagnosis on Monday, but were hoping for something else. We didn’t expect anything to develop over the weekend, but nurses told my Mom and Dad to watch out for exhaustion over the weekend… and when it was too much, they went in on Saturday.


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Mom and Dad

Mom and Dad

At our celebration dinner for Katy’s passing her oral exams and me getting accepted into school.

Dancing Parents

Dancing Parents

My parents, cutting a rug!

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