I clean the house well.
Enjoying baseball is no more hard than it was before Taffy died, and makes me feel a little closer to her.
This is not my obituary on Taffy, but an attempt to explain why she means so much to me, and why I never called her ‘grandma.’
Or “How my grandmother came to be known as Taffy and not her birth name, Harriet.”
Well I went to bed in Cleveland and I woke up in Chicago. Got a cell phone in my pocket and I’d blog you if I could.