It's hard to go on with the daily activities, the busy work of life, when someone so important to you, someone you love and care about, when your father, these boys papa is in ICU. When words I don't like the sound of are floating over phone lines. What can I do? Sit there and watch? I feel bad that I am not there. I feel bad that we aren't all there round the clock. But he wakes up when you're there and tries to talk to you and that's not good for him. So we will let him rest he really needs it. We will let the amazing staff at Stanford do their job. We will do our job when he comes home.
We made it through the first critical 24 hours now the next 24 begins.



Last night Stella dug up a frog. A toad. It was big. As big as your out stretched hand I have no idea where she found it and she had no idea really what to do with it once she found it. I desperately looked for the meaning of a frog showing up in your back yard (like a bird flying into your house is bad luck or a cricket showing up being good luck that type of thing) but I didn't find anything. So I guess it had no meaning at all...just showed up and while I was hoping it would turn into a Prince it did not and it went away.

Dom is working on Joe's school project. He has to make something that Goes. They (he, Dom) is making a helicopter. Wait till ou see it. I thought painting a 2 liter bottle of soda gray and calling it a blimp. Put Goodyear on the side and call it good. But I spent many hours working on the Black History project and the John Hancock project, he can have this one. I think the busy project is good for him and I am finding hard to concentrate beyond folding a towel.