Bobbing to the top??

Kind of like a Magic 8 ball. Little bits of meaningless and important cliches pop up from dark murky liquid. I hold it in my hands -- a warm magic ball. And it is only big to me. Predictable and lucky like calling a shot: 8 ball to the corner pocket. Sink it.

(I'm not as fancy as I sound. I've always been loud, dramatic and a mess of a mixed metaphor. My big storms are a mile wide and an inch deep. Really, they only mean something on the surface. Courage, brothers!!)

Dad died. It was big -- big as Lake Bonneville draining all at once into Idaho. It will take a bit to dry off and wade through a now shallow ocean of heavy loam. Just as easy to drown in two inches of mud as 400 feet of water if you stay face down for too long.

Grief makes you dumb, I guess. And I love my new club of women with out dads. You girlfriends know who you are and I thank you!!!