Wombat Rampant

Mark Taylor's mother died this morning at 0500, shortly after he'd left the family farm in Luray . Mrs. Taylor had been through a lot these last few months, and this was expected; she was receiving hospice care at home, so at least she was comfortable at the end.
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I called Mark this evening and he seems to be holding up well enough under the circumstances. I'll be going down after work on Thursday to attend the reception/wake, since I can't make it to the Mass on Friday.

It's also been eight years since my father died. Didn't make it to Arlington today, but will make an effort to stop by this coming weekend.

Honestly, it's not all death and morbidity tonight in the Burrow. Stopped at the library after work to pick up my reserved copy of S.M. Stirling's The Scourge of God (which means Martin van Creveld's solid but unexciting The Culture of War goes on the back burner next to the Nuge and Chuck Norris) along with Norah Vincent's Self-Made Man, Hemingway's Death in the Afternoon, and Iain Banks' Inversions.

Still dealing with the tag ends of this cold/respiratory infection/plague; emptied out the change mug this morning to invest in more generic DayQuils.