I've been thinking about my grandma a lot lately. Sadly she passed away on January 1st this year. She was good and old I’m happy to say. For approximately the past decade she'd been in the fantasy land of alzheimer's. Apparently she didn't know anyone any more. She'd sing, sing, sing though. "Two little black birds sitting on the wall, one named Peter, the other named Paul…” “There was a man named Michael Finnigan, he grew whiskers on his chinny chin… along came the wind and blew them in again….” or “ Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear…” Drat now I’ll…

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