Yesterday we went to the zoo again (I've decided that the summer is for field trips. It's harder to sit and read and do table work right now. We'll get to it. Winter is coming. damn it) and when we got back a good friend came over. Geoff was home briefly and then out to the dojo, but Reg was still here when I heard that Geoff's godfather, Hamish, had died in the afternoon. His godparents are funny and intelligent and fun, and they were some of the people that showed me being an adult didn't have to mean being boring or no longer playing- together, they were artist/drummer/singer/weaver/photographer/book lover/good cooks, and interested in everything. That's a great quality, being interested in everything. And it was formative for me. I met them when I was about fourteen. Christine said last night on the phone that she'll follow my lead, and do a small memorial for Hamish. And then said, "It's interesting that you've already done this recently. But it makes sense. You've always been so much more mature than me."
Darling Christine. We went to talk to them about marriage just before we were married, and Hamish said forcefully, "Why did the church send you to US about marriage? We're an awful example!"
I'm sitting around today, thinking of Hamish, and I'm going to do some chores and console Elizabeth, who is upset that we didn't bring the giraffes home from the zoo. She's telling me that I am going to bake a chocolate cake. Maybe I will. Maybe I'll bake two, and take one over to Christine's, and see if she needs any help.
I hope Hamish and Terry Pratchett are arguing amicably together in Heaven.
Lord, let now Thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word.