It Always Taps You On the Shoulder

Grief, that is. 

All the canned cat food and bags of treats that were left after Madeleine and Riley died were packed up and taken to Hannah on Sunday.  I picked up the bag of dry food to take it, too, and had to put it back down immediately.  Couldn't do it.  A wave of sadness washed over me.  Utterly unexpected.

Then last night, I made myself a little bowl of pasta, reached into the refrigerator for Colby Jack cheese to sprinkle on it, and burst right into tears.  Colby Jack was Riley's favorite.  When she wouldn't eat it, I knew it was time.

Wednesdays are therapy days, of course.  We're  doubling up, as the waters are super choppy and deep right now.  My therapist and her daughter are going to the Stray Kids concert in a couple of weeks, and they both have the fever BAD.  Hey, I get it.  Backstreet Boys, anyone?

This is my latest bookmark:

I'm going to spell out "READ" in fancy sticker letters on the back.

This arrived today:

I'm not a fan of cutesy little sayings, but I am all about those pastel underfeathers.  And the color of the feet is perfect.