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Dad's Favorite

My father had surgery a couple of weeks ago - serious surgery.  Which got started quite a bit later than scheduled.  So, while we waited for him to go up to the operating room, we talked.  About rocks.  Well, other things too, but we always end up talking about rocks.  And, as we talked, it occured to me that my Dad has a favorite.  Not me.  A favorite rock.

Rocks and the crawly things they sometimes attract

I have quite a few rocks.  I'm not talking about the little polished rocks that I set in jewelry or that you buy in jewelry - I have big hunks of rocks.  I intend to cut and polish them - but in the meantime they live in my garden shed in crates and boxes.  I love to just go out and sort through them and imagine what I'll get once I slice them up.  (yep!  that takes a big saw)  I sometimes go through them before I head to a rock show so I can make sure I'm not looking for duplicate rocks at the show.  I have a list, but sometimes I misplace it.

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