So, my elbow and arm and hand have been killing me. It hurts to pick up a can of tomatoes and to type. (I am an ergonomic nightmare- two fingers pecking hunched over a laptop too high on my desk...) Anyhow, at Morning Muscles I was explaining my symptoms and Gina said, "tennis elbow." I said I don't play tennis. Then Mary, who just returned from a winter in Micronesia said, "you have firewood elbow." I kind of knew that all the grabbing of chunks of wood with my right hand had irritated it. I have been moving the wood from the shed to the wheelbarrow to the porch to the stove for months. Mary said, " I used to have firewood elbow, but ever since I've been going to Saipan it's disappeared." Today I wouldn't mind being far away on a tropical island. I am working on Rick Markee's obituary, he died in a freak snowmachine accident this weekend and it has hit his friends and family terribly hard. He was a good guy. I talked with his mother on the phone yesterday, she's in Minnesota. It is all so hard that it breaks my heart, and then some. Tom at the paper says not to get emotionally involved in stories. How can I live here and not be emotionally involved? That would be wrong. The other thing is, that the obituary really isn't that important. I mean, it's just a few words for the paper. It's the listening to the stories that has the highest value for the loved ones grappling with the loss. I know that sounds like obituary-ese, but there's not a better way to say it. They are loved ones, and they are grappling with loss, in a very real physical way.