The new Gotham
is PINK. Yippy, she's back!

I'm not sure I am, yet, though. I'm finding it hard to write anything worth posting.

We went to a Hannukah thing with a dancing performance my youngest has been practicing for, for months. I really wasn't in the mood, but I couldn't disappoint her by not coming. She had a panic attack and nearly bailed out. Tears and hysteria. Trying to calm her down took my mind off things for a while. When she finally did her bit, I was busy smiling, waving, taking photos. When she'd finished, I suddenly thought how Mum would have "kvelled nachus". A friend who lost her father many years ago told me this never stops happening, but instead of being painful, it becomes a tender thought.

This morning I thought about Bish's father. He passed away about three years before I met Bish. Although I never actually met him, I feel as if I know him very well. I often find myself reacting to something Bish does or says by thinking: "He's just like his father" or "That (trait) he definitely got from his father". Isn't that funny? His father lives on in me, although I never met him.