I made an important discovery this morning: cellular telephones do not change the time automatically... but the MTS receiver does - which do you believe when you wake up in a jolt, with a 8 am dog-walking date looming? I made the wrong choice. Fortunately my dear friend, Brenda Bracken-Warwick forgave my mental lapse and, thanks to her "Where are you?" phone call, I arrived on time for my next appointment, a 9 am geometry lesson at Stella's on Osborne, with my colleague Anne Bergeron. I will now dedicate the remainder of the abbreviated Sunday to planning fun yet educational geometry lessons.

Many people continue to express their condolences, and without fail they inquire as to how Mum is doing (BTW, Dilly prefers the m-u-m spelling - it's not ME). At this point in time, she is chagrined and faces daily reminders that Dad is not with us. It's hard. Norm is the lucky benefactor of some of Dad's lovely Thai ties, golf shirts (quelle surprise!), My s-i-l, a bag of curling pins, but the Italian sweater is staying put. The triage is painful for her. The hundreds of cards and letters bring her comfort as many people take the time to share anecdotes and memories that they have of Dad.

I leave you with an Irish blessing with a wink and a nod to Grandma Campbell (March 16th) and Uncle Jack (March 17th), after all, St. Patty's Day is fast approaching.

May you always have walls for the winds,
a roof for the rain, tea beside the fire,
laughter to cheer you, those you love near you,
and all your heart might desire.

Rags, our Soft-coated Wheaton Terrier (an Irish breed of course!)

Slán go fóill