I just don’t know. Why does all this emotional stuff pile up all at once?

I sure do love my family. I would do just about anything for them. One of the hardest things in life to learn is that what I can do for them is precious little. (Interesting phrase, that. Precious little. Maybe so.)

I sure would do a lot more for Margot, if I could. I worry tremendously about her black rages, about how very 2-years-old she is at those times. I fear for her sanity. I think it’s getting worse. Does it have to get worse before it can get better? Will it get better?

Am I just being overemotional? Even though I was not very close to Fred, death has a way of reaching out to people that little else does.

I was stuck in one of the worst traffic jams ever today. Newton Corner was backed up for blocks in all directions. Further backup heading up Galen St; Soldiers Field Road blocked off by police, forcing us through this mess a second time. Tried to avoid it by getting on the Mass Pike inbound, and it was backed up past West Newton because of the exit at Newton Corner, effectively forcing us through the mess a third time. Made Margot late for tennis. Only by 10 minutes, but maybe this was one of the reasons she lost it today the way she did.

I lost my pocketbook today – left it in a shopping cart in the parking lot of the Star Market in Brighton. Waited for Margot at tennis, drove home before I discovered it missing. Given the neighborhood, I figured it was gone forever. But the Star Market had it, and not only it but also the credit cards and drivers license inside, and not only these but also every dollar of cash. A small miracle: an honest person.

An ancient Tamil poem came in email today: Every town our home town.

It puts things in perspective.