My mom slowly, very slowly, is recovering from taking a bad fall at my brother's northwestern, IA, home last Saturday [April 25]. She's dizzy and sleeps a lot, which her doc says is a good thing to do. They don't want her out of bed until this Sunday, at the earliest. It's really the pits.
They just sent her down for more x-rays on her neck. I am sitting here looking out the 8th floor window on a rainy Wednesday in Sioux City, Iowa, feeling … resigned.
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donfollis.com 
Here's a poem (read by Garrison Keillor on 4/30 on Writer's Almanac) that seems to fit this really terrific picture, Don.despite it allthere were twelve birdson the television antennaon the roof below my windowI counted themand then one lifted upand then twoand then three flew awaythere are nine birdsand then they too lift upand fly awayand then one comes backand then twothere are twelveno thirteen birdson the television antennaon the roof below my windowI count themand then one lifts upHave a great day. God bless you and your mom and dad.Dave
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bummer. We'll be thinking of you and her.
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