A Day in the Life

Today I made chicken soup, went out for flu supplies, entertained a five year old with microscope slides of cotton and beeswax, cracked open a gourd with a table saw, supervised the painting of said gourd by said five year old, shepherded the cleaning of the brushes (and the walls, railings, and rug), guided said five year old through cleaning her own damn self with a wash rag in the bath, built a fire, brought chicken soup to sicky pants, went down to make a hot toddy…

and Stephen Hawking died.

Life is a strange, fragile, and beautiful gift.