I know. I know. Once you start a blog you are supposed to be dedicated and OCD instead of ADD. Okay, so the last time I posted I was making snow angels. Get over it. It isn't as if you don't have a life and something else to do while waiting for my next blog, at least I hope you do.
It is June. I don't like June. June used to be a nice month--the beginning of summer, a lovely month to get married, swimming pools finally open. It has been 29 years this week since I lost my first husband, Paul, in an accident. Today it has been 29 years since his funeral. I don't get weepy anymore. I just get lethargic and down and useless for about a week. Then I come back to life. (Check with me on Monday to see if it really happened.)
It starts on Monday of that fateful week and goes through Father's Day. Every Father's Day the Primary kids sing that depressing song about Daddy coming home. I should be able to do okay now, but I always have these awful flashbacks of a little boy of mine singing about a daddy that comes home along with the rest of the Primary, most of whom have daddies that actually do come home. If anyone knows Janice Kapp Perry, would you please ask her or anyone out there in musicland to write a NEW song for the Primary kids to sing. I am almost certain it has been sung 25 out of the 29 years I've been blubbering my way through Father's Day.
Okay, I'll stop now. June will soon be over for another year.