It's good to be home, but this weather sure is icky. I'm itching to make some beads and I think tomorrow is the day. Going to France was a good thing for me. It kind of allowed me to step away from my sorrow for a while. Somehow my Dad's being gone wasn't as in my face as it usually is when I'm home. It was kind of nice, but still every once in a while it would come rushing back and I'd just think to myself "I can't believe my Dad's dead". But those times were fewer inbetween there than they are here.