It’s early morning here at riotthill, not much ado ’bout nothin’. One of the cats is purring’ I suspect Liefi, feeding her kittens.
Moisture adorns the big picture window, obscurring my view, though there isn’t much to look at this time of year, a sort of limbo season. The leaves have abandoned their trees and are fading fast on the ground. The sky is drab grey, refusing to yield to the sun, threatening to rain again—or will it snow?
But there is good news on the horizon: Ruth came through her surgery successfully—oh, it’s cancer, but with a little ‘c’. Her doctor believes she will recover. I do too, for she is not just a contender, but a world-class fighter. I carry her in my thoughts, my heart and my prayers always.