...I lost dad. No. It's not what you're thinking. Literally. I lost him somewhere between JFK airport and Park Slope Brooklyn. Now I can look back and smile. But then - Oy Vay! And, for the Freudian's in the room, perhaps it was all the result of the unconscious messaging to us all that dad would soon no longer be with us.
So, if you want the story, take a look back to my January 2, 2008 blog.
On an up note - the stoves have made their floor selection! The men are supposed to be here (seven minutes ago) and by this afternoon, Voila! Should I worry that the building manager has yet to call us and ask us how many boxes of tile to buy? :>) Hark! I hear the door bell! Let the remodeling begin!
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