Entry 1 3:31 p.m.

I have so many questions about Zagor.
Three years ago, when we were traveling through Europe, we stumbled across this dilapidated bookstore on a Venice canal.  It was cross between Powell's, The Strand, and a typical hoarder's house, complete with cats. The girls and I were in heaven. I think of Zagor, a comic I found in the stacks, on occasion because comics seem to me to be a peculiarly American form. Zagor looked more like a character from Harvey Birdman than from any comic universe.  

I am funny in that while I am fiercely protective of the past, and had a habit as the kids were growing up of taking a ridiculously uncountable number of photos, I don't revisit them, with few exceptions. The kids have never really seen the photos of their birthdays, camping trips, sleepovers.  They have never asked.  I'm not sure why I was so intent on capturing the moment, and why it stopped.  

Jenny, as predicted, is feeling better today, and acknowledging that the lamentations of yesterday were chemo driven.  She said this morning, "I get so down and want to quit, and then Amy reminds me that this is day two of chemo, and it will be better soon."  I mentioned, "Umm, I tell you that every time too." I'm not upset about it, but I find it perplexing.  

Entry 2     9:30 p.m.
If you would have told me a year and a half ago that my wife would be smoking pot and drinking Chinese herbs that smell of patchouli (one of 18 ingredients), I would have thought you insane.



 


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