From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Monday, September 17, 2007

This MUST be a placeholder...

I know I had ton's that I was going to write about... and now I can't think of a thing. Well, I can but I will save them for a real journal... like a book that you write in. OR I could just chat those thought out with Crystal in the morning...

Oh, one of the things was that tomorrow is Jame's court date to start divorce proceedings. I've got very mixed feelings. I was telling a co worker today that the little angels on my shoulders are really having it out. Scott is going with James. They will leave at 7:30...so I may leave for work then too. I have 30 mins I need to make up. I was sick all over the toilet the other day. ...

bad French Onion soup at 1:30 AM at a bar while you are watching Monday Night Football does not sit well with me. I just learned that.

Empty nest or no... well it's probably definitely empty nest syndrome... nonetheless; I really miss my boys. I hope I get to see them soon.
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