We’re all in therapy over here.

Shira Warning for Some Sad Content

Phil’s mother died Thursday.  Her body was just ready, and she flew into the mud puddle of heaven worn out and broken, and flew out the other side in a sparkly blue dress, wearing white shoes, a white crown, and white wings with silver and gold sparkles (according to Andra).  We’re pretty sure she had a white wand and zapped a yummy buffet straight away.

Down here, we are all in therapy.  The girls stayed home Friday, and I explained that when people are troubled that sometimes they go through therapy.  We started with baking therapy.  Moved on to serious art therapy.  Did some yardwork therapy, went on a little picnic therapy and have indulged in a little watching TV and lying around therapy too.  Andra concluded that “therapy” is really just another word for “busy”.  She’s probably right.  We are going to do a little delicious dinner therapy and then figure out what comes next. 

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