. . . to Rosina and her family.

It looks like the trip will be over soon. Tomorrow, maybe.

Chalk one more up for cancer, in its battle on the human race. One more life over way too soon. I get so angry about it—and yet there are important people in my life who wouldn't be here at all if medical science weren't getting better at recognizing and treating these things.

I used to envy this beautiful woman more than I can say, and that shocks me now. It's so easy to get caught up in the petty concerns of day-to-day life. We lose track of what's important so quickly.

"Well, that's envy. There's some of that in the best of us, m'Dear. And don't you think that's a bit too bad?" (Jimmy Stewart as Elwood P. Dowd in Harvey. Will someone spot me on the exact wording? No time for fact-checking.)

Yes. Yes, I do. But I'm glad I know Rosina. Glad I invited her to my wedding. Glad that I could see her sunny smile, and experience her wicked sense of humor. (When the wives of comedy writers talk . . . )

And I am more pissed than usual at Mr. Cancer, whom I've never forgiven for the loss of Dave Arnold, the last true gentleman left on the planet—and sorely missed.

Via Write Enough.

UPDATE: I've fixed the "Edmund" thing. I'm not sure where that came from; I've certainly seen Harvey enough times to know better, as my cohabitant has pointed out. On the other hand, I do know how to spell "margarine." Nonetheless, I keep buying "margerine" week after week, without correcting the list on the refrigerator, nor complaining out loud. I rather thought I'd bought myself some slack in that department. Maybe not . . .

Posted by: Attila Girl at 01:01 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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. . . on Tim Blair's behalf; he's got cancer.

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