Ya know, I've been wanting to blog all week. Just pour myself out, so to speak, in a fingers-on-the-keyboard, cyber-rific sort of way. But I, every time I logged on here to start typing, clammed right up, deleted what I wrote, and went on to do other stuff (i.e. day job work). I said to a friend of mine that it's like I've really wanted to talk, but I've instead put myself into a self-imposed coccoon. Sometimes you just have to insulate. And grieve. And not tell everyone you know about how you are feeling.

My Grandpa's health has taken a serious decline in the past week. (And to the further-flung relatives who read my blog -- those cousins of mine several times removed -- he got your cards and letters and they meant the world to him.) He's in hospice care now, and I'll let that first part of the sentence say everything on its own.

So in the midst of my cocooning and crying and general moping this week, a friend of mine (who I used to work with at RCA Records), sent me flowers, out of the blue, to thank me for giving her some great press leads for one of her projects. She's a good friend and, like me, is an indie publicist, so we share info with each other.

And I have to say, those flowers really meant the world when they arrived. And they cheered me up at a time I needed cheering. Gave me comfort. Warmed my heart. I told her when I thanked her that she couldn't have picked a better time to send me flowers.

Thoroughly unexpected loveliness. Thanks, Jenn!