Getting back into the groove of work is always a bit tough after a week's break, especially so with the time change. Waking up in the dark has been an adjustment for all of us, and the week has been a struggle with bed times as well (because SOME ONE, hint: her name begins with an "N" thinks 9 pm is time to rock, not time to sleep).
Then, I caught a cold from Caleb, and the boogers runneth.
Then, my grandfather died.
He was 89, and had been diagnosed 6 months ago with extensive, inoperable cancer, and for the past few weeks, we knew his "time" was imminent. His death then was both expected and, honestly, a mercy. Still, it's sad to see someone go. I especially feel for my mother. Losing a parent must be particularly difficult, no matter the circumstances or degree of preparation.
So, this afternoon, I fly to Cody, WY.
Know where that is?
Probably not. It's commonly known as the entrance to Yellowstone, but is also home to a whole lotta cowboys. Because in WY? There are still cowboys. And, drive-thru liquor.
I'm catching a flight this afternoon, attending the funeral tomorrow, and then flying home on Sunday. I wish my trip could be longer and could be for a happier occasion, but I am thankful that I can attend, despite the duration and the distance.
All this means the running has been minimal this week, and hopefully, I can still manage that minimal through the weekend to keep the streak alive.
So, that's all that. Could I compose a less graceful conclusion?