He's So Angry

After working through much of my Saturday, I decided to stay in, work a little more, relax in my pajamas, and hit the hay while Geno went out. I should go out and meet more people, but I have a Lot of work to catch up on, and it's cold and rainy out there. No dice tonight.

I felt decent about the work I got done today, so I fell to sleep pretty easily. Then my phone started ringing around 2:30 or 2:45. Geno had fallen asleep on the bus, was a few miles north of home, and someone had stolen his wallet while he slept. So I got up, got dressed, and went to get him. Here are my thoughts while I was Geno-bound.

That totally SUCKS to have your wallet lifted.
It also SUCKS to have to wait outside in the drizzly cold in the middle of the night.
He's probably continuously remembering things that are now gone forever and getting madder and madder.
I'm tired.
I'm glad I'm here in the city for him to call, or he might have had to walk all the way home, hours of walking in the cold night alone, upset.
Who could he call if I weren't here? (Listing some names in my head.)
Boy, I'm glad we have a few reliable friends like that here in the city.
Ahh, I was sleeping so soundly and comfortably.
Ok, I need to be prepared for Upset Geno. Try to be helpful, Duchess.
Thing is, he will be inconsolably frustrated. And it's going to rub off on me. I can't help it. I take on other people's stresses.

As I'm on my way there, speeding, but not going more than 10 over so as not to attract copper attention, he calls. "Hey, I've calmed down a bit. I'm really sorry I had to wake you up in the middle of the night..."

That's pretty thoughtful. But then he got in the car. And I could feel the stress and anger climb in the car with him. I tried to make jokes, distract him, whatever, but it just wasn't going to happen. Fine. Don't be obnoxious, Duchess.

We get home. Cancel some cards. And he's So. Very. Angry. All he can do is drop the F bomb with mean intensity and talk about beating the crap out of the person who took his wallet. And how mad he is at himself. Over and over and over.

I get it. I'd be mad, too. It's the kind of thing that's just going to leave you mad for some time. But all the while I'm taking that frustration in as well. I can't stop it. I try again to cheer him up, remind him of good stuff, and he just gets more upset. So I go to bed.

Now stressed me proceeds to battle with my subconscious, as all of the stupid things I've ever done pop into my brain. Then I think about how stressed I've been at work this week, and suddenly tears are streaming down my face. Great. I read a little Julia Child, which helps my nerves, but now it's 4:30 in the morning and I'm wide awake. Geno has my laptop in his room, so I can't watch something on Netflix, as that's the only compatible computer for it. I still have significant work to do tomorrow, in addition to a grocery run, target run, home tasks, and baking for work. I need to sleep! More thoughts.

Damnit, Geno, I'm all screwed up now.
Cut him some slack, Duchess. He got his friggin wallet lifted.
He's probably in a downward mood spiral now. Lately he's been extra frustrated about finances, not having a full-time job, not dating, etc.
I asked him about the party he went to, and that just turned into a bitch session about his conversation with a nice girl who ended up having a boyfriend, which led him to no longer be interested in talking to her. (I take issue with this, but obviously now's not the time to give him grief about it.) So that turned into another profanity-laced tirade about the night sucking.
I'm so annoyed that my great night of sleep is gone. I don't get very many of them.
And what about your brother? It's not all about you, Duchess.

Gah. Overall I feel super bad for the guy, and hope I can make the coming days a little easier for him. I'll give him some cash and try to be extra laid-back. But I'm not looking forward to it, because his anger is going to take a while to fade. The boy has a temper. It's going to be uncomfortable around here. We should be getting cheery for Christmas! Not extra stressed about work and pissed about wallet thiefs!

Then, lying in bed, it occurred to me. What if he and I grow old together? What if our current obstacles turn into relationship-blocking, unhealthy patterns, and we're stuck together forever? I mean, I'd be lucky to have him around forever, but now my brain is creating those sitcom-esque time warps into the future, with us shuffling around this very apartment with walkers and bad attitudes.

Optimism. I need optimism and sleep.

Mom update

Mom: Sooo . . . [stalling b/c she's on the road and wants someone to talk to], what else is going on?

Me: Well, Hanukkah started at sundown, so Happy Hanukkah!

Mom: Oh, really?

Me: Yep, started tonight, and it's after dark. It's here!

Mom: Oh, very nice. Happy Hanukkah.

Me: Happy Hanukkah!

Mom: You know, that's where our roots lie. Without the Jewish faith, we wouldn't have our Christian faith.

Me: Yeppers.

Mom: Do you know anyone who's celebrating Hanukkah?

Me: Probably, but I haven't talked to any of them about it this year.

Mom: Well, it's perfectly acceptable to recognize Hannukah.

Yes, readers. That's what she said. And, being human, I was then unable to mask my sarcasm when I exclaimed:

OH REALLY, MOM? It's ACCEPTABLE?

Mom: [nervous giggle]

Me: And how about Kwanzaa? I think it's acceptable to RECOGNIZE Kwanzaa, don't you?

Mom: [throaty, scratchy laugh like Ernie from Sesame Street]

Me: Well, Happy Hanukkah, mom.

Patience, young Skywalker. Patience.

Good news!

The snow is here! And it's still more pretty than annoying!

I've been a little stressed at work lately. It's more my fault than anything else - I'm still a skilled procrastinator. (Say that five times really fast.) And I didn't want to get up at six today and start another long, tiresome day. But once I got in the car and turned on the Christmas music station, with the snow flurries flying all around the car, red and green lights all up the street in front of me, well. It all got to me. I freaking love this season. Everybody's excited to see everybody else. (Most everybody, anyway.) My house is all cozy and decorated.

(See the chandelier? See it?!?) I get to see my people soon, give presents, drink lots, eat good stuff, be lazy. Aw, shucks. It beats out the stress. Now if only it could beat out the procrastination, too. (How do you think I made time to blog finally?)

This afternoon and evening the weather started to get a little crazy, though. It went from snow to sleet to rain back to snow on my way home from work. When I got out to pick up the pizza, it felt like birds were pelting me with wet little slushy snowballs.

But with the lights? Still pretty.

The crybaby likes sucky music

I need to dance more. I don't go to clubs, so I don't know today's good music. I have to depend on the radio. Fine. But I haven't bought any of it, so I don't dance at home anymore. And you can't get any cardio out of it in the car without putting others at risk.

Enter Pandora.

But let's backtrack. Either my tear ducts are malfunctioning, or I've become the woman who cries at Hallmark commercials. Damn. I so wanted to be the non-cryer except for life-altering situations, a la Julia Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding. (Don't you DARE judge my film reference. I can make an apt reference using a low-quality chick flick whenever I see fit.) I finally broke down and watched that YouTube video on the pink glove dance, and darned if I didn't shed a few tears. They're having fun while doing good! Doing their part to change the world and save lives! From the doctors to the custodial staff - they're all working toward the same goal! They make me proud of people, as a race. Basically the opposite of People of Walmart.

They picked a great song for the pink glove dance, so I look the dude up on Pandora, and low and behold a dance party has broken out in my little house! Of course, Pandy played Down first, which was perfect. Then it played a Jesse McCartney song that (gulp) I, uh, liked. Between this and Miley's Party in the USA, my musical tastes have gone to the dogs. Not that I'm complaining. My heart could use the pumping. I may have eating half of a Gino's East deep dish for dinner tonight.

I'm an automobile

I managed to talk myself into going for a jog/walk this morning. No small feat, as I HATE exercising. I started out jogging, then walking, back and forth until my right shin and foot starting with a little sharp pain action. So the rest was strictly power walking.

Forty-five minutes later, I'm back at home and on the couch with my laptop before I make breakfast. Then I notice, not for the first time, that my post-exercise legs are experiencing little jolts all around the outsides of them. They feel like mini earthquakes all over my legs, but mostly in the area above the knees. What is this? Is my cellulite protesting the exercise? Are my veins pumping extra hard? Are the muscle cells and fat cells battling over territory?

And I can't help but compare it to a car. Maybe the car is old, or maybe it's quite cold outside, but we've all heard it. You get home from running errands and you turn the car off. Even though the engine is no longer running, you hear little clicks and hisses coming from under the hood that stick around for a few minutes.

So that's me. And my engine legs.

Here I am, in all of my 30-year-old glory

It happened! I lived to be 30! And is life as I expected? I guess not, since I didn't really have any expectations. It's pretty odd, though, to hear so many people a generation ahead of me talk about how at my age, they had a couple of kids, a house, blah blah blah. Not this girl - gimme time!

I (very maturely) figured out that the dude and I don't have enough in common to make this thing work. The end isn't official yet, but hopefully it will end fairly smoothly in the next week or so. Immaturely, I've been waiting for him to contact me since we last saw each other, 'cause I've been making all of the effort as of late. Guess who hasn't called? Which is weird, since all of his early talk was about him really seeing this going somewhere, connecting with me unlike anyone else ever, emailing me 3 times a day, etc. I think it's true about guys heating up really fast, then cooling off really fast. What a tired game.

Moving on, my sister just got a competitive spot to go to India for an educational program this winter. (She'll be taught in-person by the Dalai Lama!) I'm 30. What the eff have I done? But looking back at my peeps and accomplishments, I think I did pretty well for not actually having any goals. Other than to survive. I landed myself a decent job with some great people in (ok, outside of) a super-cool city. And let's face it. I love my family more than words can express. And my friends are fierce. And I live with my kick-ass brother, who totally gets me and deals with my girl-talk.

Goals of a 30-year-old?

1. Keep focused on the good shit in life.

2. Take advantage of my opportunities to enjoy everything.

3. Settle down with somebody ONLY IF I'm not "settling." Otherwise, stay single, stay loud, stay dancing, and stay social. Either way, though...

4. Have lots more sex.

5. Maybe exercise. Maybe. (Does sex count? Dancing for sure.)

Here it is! The Field

Soothing Delights

And I was going to post "Sing Out," which I referenced in my last post, but I think I accidentally looked at the wrong title, b/c I just listened to it, and it's not what I thought it was. Oh well. Enjoy the ballad above! And more if Mason if you like him!

MY time

I'm going back to work tomorrow morning after being away for a full week. Coming back on a Wednesday. Earlier today, I was thinking about my coworkers (bosses, really), and other people who are counting on me to get stuff to them, and how it's already the middle of the week for them. That kind of thinking creates stress.

Then I took a bubble bath and listened to a Mason Jennings station on Pandora. The last song was Sing Out, a new favorite. (Or favourite, for all of my British readers.) It was so soothing that it tricked me into thinking it was a leisurely Sunday, as if I'd relaxed for a full weekend (hah!) and was starting a new week with everyone else.

After I snapped back to reality, I realized I was putting all of that stress on myself with this middle-of-the-week business. Who gives a shit? What does it matter if it's Sunday or Tuesday? It's MY day. Tomorrow is MY first day of the week, and I'll do with it what I damn well please. It's my time!

So then I got comfy and happy with my Mason music and post-bubble bath glow, and took in my entitlement to a relaxing late evening. It's mine.

In other news, the man in my life has been super unavailable as of late. This is due to multiple factors:

-his being sick

-me traveling lots

-his phone totally not working sometimes

-him not returning messages in a timely fashion

-him being kinda busy, too

Bottom line is, it feels like he's playing hard to get. I don't think this to be true, 'cause I don't think he'd do that. But pathetically, it makes me crave his attention. (When do I GROW UP?!) I think my last entry about him was pretty hostile, and we discussed it later like adults. He calmed me down. I'm still on the fence about the whole thing (read: him), but I like having a boyfriend. Since we haven't seen each other in 17 years, I'm giving it some more time to figure out what I want.

More news: I really, really like talking to my stepmom. A lot. We don't share all the details of our lives or anything (especially in a daily manner), but when we talk in person or on the phone, we have good, quality, substantial, interesting, thought-provoking, loving conversations. And it means a lot to me. And it makes me think that, if ever I get married, if I lived in a world where the day was truly all about me and other people's feelings didn't matter, she would stand up with me at my wedding. 'Cause she's on my team, and she knows what's important, and I love her.

Not a Mom

Still trying to be patient, adult, etc. Things aren't going well in the crush department. I've all but written him off as long-term relationship material (for me, compatibility-wise), and I started opening up about how unhappy he seems in general. He's bringing me down. Now I'm getting a little cold shoulder action. Not straight out ignoring, but he's not contacting me today. Which is out of the ordinary for him. Which means something is going on. And I'm worried about how upset he is.

Things:

-I don't want him to feel judged.

-I'm not getting much out of our relationship.

-I deserve someone who makes me feel good. More than good. Alive, smart, ambitious, etc. I feel all those things on my own, but I want to find someone who highlights or enhances my traits that I enjoy. I'm feeling drained.

Now that the initial fun crush stuff has worn off, he's opening up more. And that's revealed two bad things: I don't like some things about him that he seems to find endearing about himself; and most of his chosen conversational topics are about how his life sucks. Not only is that not fun for me, but being around it makes me physically and mentally uncomfortable, as in, get-me-outta-here.

There's totally some maternal quality in me that wants to help pick him up and make him better, but that's not what I'm looking for! And not what I should be doing, especially in a girlfriend role.

B to the OOOOOO.

I'm a grown up. Sometimes.

Ok, so we had the talk and it went well. And things are going well. And the guy is a really good kisser, and he's incredibly sweet to me and he loves movies, so it's good. Thing is, it's not fireworks. And I kinda expect fireworks when I find the person who can be MY person. But I've heard stories.... "I wasn't attracted to him at all when we first met," ..... "He asked me out 16 times before I finally said yes," ..... "I never thought it would last, and here we are, 35 years later!" Of course, I have to follow my gut. That's the thing to do.

But what am I good at doing? Overanalyzing, of course. I'm truly trying to cut back, and a good friend gave me some good advice. As long as we're having a good time, then keep having fun and see what happens. When it stops being fun, then take a different route. Good. Reasonable. Thank you.

And it Is fun, so that's pretty nice.

Next steps: I may soon get to the point of talking to my parents about him. They want to know what's going on in my life, etc. And he is. So. I kinda already told some peeps, but not mom. 'Cause her FIRST question will be, "Is he Catholic?" She won't ask his name, where he lives, what he does, how he treats me, how he makes me feel, none of it until she knows he's a good Christian, preferably Catholic, boy. And I just don't want to go there. The guy is basically agnostic, with comforts taken in the idea of some kind of higher power. She will have a problem with this, and this could prompt me to explain that I actually think the same things he does. While she will find Tragic. I just.... don't have the energy.

Terrible?

Being a Grown Up

is hard. My crush and I have started dating, which is really nice. He's all kinds of nice. But he's quickly become all kinds of suffocating. Now, in the past, I *may* have been quick to judge some dudes, finding deal breakers early on, and cutting things off before they could really get started. I felt totally comfortable with these decisions, but they've been mentioned as bad habits by some friends, so I'm trying to be more patient than usual.

Therefore, instead of thinking, "Gah, he obviously doesn't get it. Game over.", I'm going to try to have a talk with him about it. Hold back my judgments as much as I can, and try to pre-repair, or something. It's odd, because all of his past mistakes that make him feel self conscious or loserish are things that don't bother me so much. People make mistakes, we learn, we move on. But these inherent habits are harder for me to accept, even ones like this that are extremely well intentioned.

Anyway, I'm making him dinner tomorrow, and hopefully will get ballsy enough to get this out in the open.

In other news, I might roadtrip down to Pekin this weekend to Finally get our couch. Still up in the air; no logistics are anywhere near settled. It'll be nice to get a couch. Some day.

I'm in like

Phase 1: I meet a nice guy whilst out with Geno's friends.  (He's one of 'em.)  He's super nice, and I don't think much of it.  Afterwards, when analyzing his friends to his face, Geno confirms that he's way nice.

Phase 2: I go to a house party with Geno's friends.  He's there, still nice, and I find myself kind of excited to see him.  Throughout the evening, we don't bond extensively, but it becomes clear that he is abundantly considerate and fun-loving.  He dances much, without worry of any judgement.

Phase 3: I get home from said party and decide to allow myself a crush on him.  The terms include the idea that this won't amount to anything, I'll probably get to know him better and stop crushing for lack of stuff in common, but I'll fantasize like a teenager and allow myself this indulgence b/c it's been too long.

Phase 4: I wake up the next morning to a friend request from him on facebook.  So I tell myself I'll interpret this as reciprocal crushing (even though it's not likely) to enhance the quality of my own crushing.  Fun for fantasyland.

Phase 5: He makes funny comments on my facebook page and pays attention to me.  Could he ACTually be interested?  No, he's just nice, I'm sure.  But now I like him more, damnit.  He invites me out last-minute to a gig of a fellow friend-of-Geno's.

Phase 6: I go out to said gig, taking a wing (wo)man for cover, which helped my insecurities immensely.  Trying not to expect too much, I had an excellent time with all the peeps there, including my wing man, and shared some knowing glances with the crush.  Am I over-interpreting?

Phase 7: Wing man, crush, and I share a ride home.  It's amiable, light-hearted, and pleasant.  I'm sitting next to him, slightly touching, but not overdoing it.  We discuss Gilmore Girls.  He says he's a fan.  No really.  (Is he a real person?)  Another knowing glance is exchanged post-cab, and we go our separate ways.

Phase 8: I drive wing man home, then come home myself, thinking in a perfect world I'd have an email from him.  Guess what?  He totally sent me a message about the GILMORE GIRLS*.  After explaining the specifics of his fandom, he asked me to come out with the group more often and said flattering things.  Now that I think about it, there was no blatant romantic undertone, but it still made me feel all warm and goopy inside.

And the crush stands strong.  Thank goodness.

*I haven't discussed my Gilmore Girls fanaticism in depth (or at all?) on this blog, but know that it is deep and sincere.  I cried when the show ended, and I miss them as if they were my friends.  I take comfort in their companionship through watching the show, and despite the pathetic nature of that statement, there is nothing to be done.  I Love those characters and find solace in their nature when the rest of the world has run amok with my confidence in humanity.

TMI

You've been warned.  This post has puh-hersonal information in it.  But this keeps making me giggle, so I have to document my inside (my own head) joke.

Eons ago, my now adult cousin gave me a bookmark for Christmas.  He made it himself - it's knitted or crocheted or something, probably made it in class.  Anyway, it's made of pink and white yarn (the kind that fades back and forth) and looks like a squiggly, corkscrew-shaped worm with a long, slim tail (the bookmark part).  The fatter, corkscrew worm part is still kind of long, and it has those little crafty bug-eyes glued to the head.  Very cute.

I recently found this treasure, and have placed it in a book that's on my beside stand.  Every time I walk into my room, I see it there, next to by bed, alongside my book, out in the open.

Well, my nearest and dearest vibrator also happens to be pink and white, and the colors swirl up in the same candy-cane color stripe fashion.  So for the last several days, I give myself a little start when I walk into my room and think, "Uh-oh, I left it out.  What if Geno saw it?  He would be so uncomfortable!  Poor guy.  He probably wouldn't even say anything . . . ." then I realize that it's the bookmark.  All is well.  Heightened heart rate for nothing.

Heh heh.

And by the by, since I did actually increase my heart rate, does that count as exercise?

I'm getting better at the guitar

I'm not picking or anything, but I'm jumping to different chords faster than ever before, for me.  It's fun.  My latest two favorite songs to play are "Go Home" by BNL (peppy and catchy) and "Shame" by the Avett Brothers.  I've been listening to that one multiple times on the way to and from work this week.  Lyrics from memory, you ask?  You got it.  This is one of those songs that I thought was fair upon the first listen, but I'm enjoying the lines more and more as I give them each more thought.  Ah life, so many truisms.  

Ok, so I was wrong about

our reasons for us falling out

of love, I want to fall back in.

My life is different now, I swear

I know now what it means to care

about somebody other than myself.

I know those things I said to you,

they were untender and untrue

I'd like to see those things undo.

So if you could find it in your heart

to give a man a second start

I promise things won't end the same.

Shame.  Boatloads of shame.

Day after day, more of the same.

Blame.  Please lift it off.

Please take it off, please make it stop.

Ok, so I have read the mail

the stories people often tell

about us that we never knew.

But their existence will float away

just like every word they say

and we will hold hands as they fade.

Shame.  Boatloads of shame.

Day after day, more of the same.

Blame.  Please lift it off.

Please take it off, please make it stop.

(my favorite part here....)

I was so sure of everything

my love to you, so well received.

And I just strutted 'round your town

knowing I didn't let you down.

The truth be known, the truth be told,

my heart was always fairly cold

posing to be as warm as yours,

my way of getting in your world.

But now I'm out and I've had time 

to look around and think 

and see into another world

that's filled with guilt and overwhelming

Shame.  Boatloads of shame.

Day after day, more of the same.

Blame.  Please lift it off. 

Please take it off, please make it stop.

And everyone, they have a heart.

And when they break and fall apart,

they need somebody's helping hand.

I used to say, just let 'em fall.

It wouldn't bother me at all.

I couldn't help them, now I can.

Conflicting Experiences

Last night I went to dinner with friends.  It was absolutely lovely and charming.  I met their little girl for the first time, and she took to me immediately, which felt fantastic.  (Doesn't always happen with her, and doesn't always happen with little kids and me.)  Anyway, it seemed good times were had by all.  And after the visit, I walked around Millennium Park for a while.  It was a warm night, and Lots of people were out and about.  Many families.  The two big screen sculptures with the fountains around them were crowded, and little children ran around in their bathing suits and wet clothes.  It was SO charming.  They were giggling, chasing, splashing, and all had Huge smiles on their faces.  It was a completely wholesome scene, and I caught myself smiling many times, just being around it.

Then this morning.  *sigh*  I woke up at 5 to go to the bathroom.  I decided to check my email, so I sat at the dining room table, facing out to the street, one room removed.  We have one of our front windows open (with screen) to get a breeze through the house.  With no warning, I heard three extreme, desperate, male screams.  One right after the other, less than a second between them.  It completely scared me.  First, because the tone of them was so intense and desperate.  Second, because we don't have curtains.  The glass in the tops of the windows is so pretty that we didn't want them.  And with the dining room light on, anyone outside could see me sitting there, paying attention.  In short, I was freaked.

I rushed to my brother's room and woke him up.  There were no follow-up noises.  But because the scream was so, again, extreme, I decided to call the police.  As I walked back out to make the call, a car turned on and pulled away from across the street.  More freaked.

Here are the scenarios in my head:

1. Someone was murdered.  This is the least likely scenario, but the easiest to jump to when one is paranoid.  The killing happened with a blade or blunt object, as no gunshots were heard.  If they'd had a silencer, I don't think the screams would have happened.  But I see no bodies outside, so they must have taken it with them.  (Now I'm also thinking that there could still be someone outside, and they're watching me through the windows, and I'm next.....)

2. Someone mentally ill was outside.  They make loud, painfully inappropriate noises at inopportune times, and I misinterpreted the intensity of their intentions.

3. Some drunk IDIOT made these noises.  But it really wasn't a drunk-sounding thing.  It was so strong and it sounded like there was a great deal of out-of-control emotion behind it.

4. (Maybe the most likely scenario)... someone had an absolutely horrid night.  He got dumped at five in the morning, or someone close to him died, and he had to leave wherever he was.  So he walked out to his car, and took a moment to scream and let out some of the anger, tension, etc. before getting behind the wheel.

But really, I've never been this physically, mentally, and immediately scared.  I called the police (3-1-1), and they transferred me to 9-1-1, which apparently they're required to do when screams are heard.  I told them what happened and gave them my contact information.  As I typed here, I saw a police SUV drive by, back, up, and drive by again.  So clearly nothing shady can be seen from the street.  A relief, to an extent.  

It's now six a.m.  In about a half hour, I have to take my car in to the shop.  This means I'll be freaked and paranoid as I walk out to my car, and as I'm sitting before I drive away, and especially in the 45 seconds my car won't start.  (Why I'm going to the shop.)  Then I'm taking public transportation home, so that'll be a paranoid walk as well from the bus stop.  

So we're going with the somebody-got-dumped theory.  That MUST be my focus when this comes to mind, or I'll lose years from stress.  I'm kind of mourning my warm and cuddly feeling about Chicago from last night.  And wondering (a) if this noise would have woken me from a sound sleep (maybe not with the window air conditioning unit in my room), and (b) if groggy me would have gotten up to call the police.  Don't know.

It's getting light out.  I'm tense, but my heartbeat is returning to a normal pace.  How on EARTH do people live day to day in the middle east with suicide bombers making regular appearances and people being killed on the street with such regularity?!

Electrician Extraordinare!

I successfully hooked my stereo up to the television, so we have decent sound for when I watch the Gilmore Girls.  (Priority.)  However, the ole' cd player just isn't working the same way.

So I took apart the stereo.  I used two different screwdrivers and most of my brain tools and dug around its insides.  I scooped out a bunch of goop with q-tips, which I now think was some kind of lubricant for all of the wheels and whatnot inside there.  It only took me 20 minutes to discover the tiny, oddly placed, thin, black flap that covers the cd reader, so I could q-tip it and blow on on it for a while.  Very scientific stuff.  

So after working my magic for a while, the thing played almost one whole song on one cd.  Not the first song.  The seventh.  

Magic!

AND, on top of all that impressive activity, I managed to put the whole thing back together, just the way it was.  Amazing.

It's not for nothing, you know

When a two-year-old throws herself to the floor, writhing and yelling incomprehensibly, wholly inconsolable, we pity her.  She is tired.  Frustrated.  And she lacks the skills and experience that would allow her to either control her frustrations or vocalize them more appropriately.  She is acting like a child because that is all she knows how to do.

 

But let's not write off her behaviour as simply childish just yet.

 

Doesn't that sound like it would be satisfying?  When you're in a piss-poor mood, and you're expected to buck up and tackle some really challenging obstacles, aren't you at all tempted to just throw a tantrum?  I don't even want to complain to anyone.  Nobody else has to be there.  I just want to fling my body to the ground, flop around in protest of my responsibilities, whine, grunt, stretch, and then get up and move on.  It sounds cathartic to me.  Making my personal space my own little punching bag.

 

Of course, that might be frowned upon in the work place.

Ode to Potheads

I yearn for your attitude
I relish you demeanor
I envy your tolerance,
redefined by your outlook

"It's not tolerance, man,
I just don't dwell
Why waste my time?"

Indeed.  And yet,
I have no control
One judgement from another
with hostile implications
and I internalize
my paranoia escalates
I take offense
worry, worry, worry

I long for hippie ease
"It's cool, he's just trying
to do his thing
best he can
We'll work it out"
Focus elsewhere

Thing is
this is your instinct
that makes you this way
not weed

You're perfectly efficient
accountable
respected
responsible

Can I train to be like you?
I have a feeling
that very idea
reflects
what holds me back

Top 6 People I Would Render Mute, If Possible

Rush Limbaugh

Glenn Beck
Bill O'Reilly
Dick Cheney
Ann Coulter
Lou Dobbs

Notice how nobody from the Bush family is on the list?  I've decided that they're irrelevant to current conversations about future politics.  Plus they're not talking, given that no one wants to listen.  Just a guess.

Tears in my eyes. Gah.

I've written here before about the silly banter between my granparents on my dad's side.  Typically, it involves Grandpa telling Grandma how lucky she is, vocally considering trading her in for a better model, etc.  And of course, she usually giggles and says, "Yes, dear . . . I'm very lucky."

 

I just learned that Grandpa, after much medical crap going on this year including a stroke, had to head into the hospital again, this time for an infection.  He's not as, well, with-it any more.  He gets confused.  And he's used to being both independent and in charge, so having to take so many orders has made him cranky, and sometimes downright impossible.

 

He'll be in the hospital for a few days, and he's stable and alert, but not always as sharp as we want him to be.  The following story comes courtesy of Uncle Bill, one of the Best Men I've Ever Met Ever.  Last night, Grandma and Grandpa were sitting next to each other on the edge of the hospital bed, chatting quietly, as they often do.  Grandpa said, "You know, there's only one thing I would have done differently with my life."  Grandma's heart sank, because she can't imagine ANY different kind of life.  She truly feels like the luckiest girl in the world with him by her side, so she's disappointed that he might have some serious life regret weighing on his conscience.  He continued, "I should have married you sooner."

 

Enter tears.

 

First of all, they married when he was 18 and she was 17.  Second, given his tendency for silly, disrespectful jokes, this was the last thing anyone expected him to say.  Sure, sometimes he'll joke in a self-depricating way and tell her she's crazy for marrying him (instead of the typical other way around), but I never hear him get mushy.  Third, (and Uncle Bill didn't comment on this, but I'll assume), I bet Grandma's heart almost burst. 

 

I love them SO much.

Chicagoan. Chicagan. Chicagaga. Chicagette.

I'm officially moved.  I am a Chicago resident, and I think I like it.  I've moved in with my oldest brother, who's a couple of years younger than me.  At first I thought maybe I was making a sacrifice doing that.  I'd planned on living on my own.  And now I have to share decorating decisions and a bathroom with a smelly boy.

However, in addition to the large space we can afford together and having a man around the house to kill gross things and lift heavy ones, I also get a bit of a companion.  The first two days of work weren't, well, fun.  They were fine, but it's a shaking experience, immersing oneself into something that new and all-encompassing.  Last night, after getting lost and taking 2 hours to drive home, I teared up and took a bubble bath.  Much better.  Tonight when I got home I just felt weird.  Uncomfortable weird.  Vulnerable weird.  Geno wasn't here, but knowing that I wasn't alone in this place, that he'd be here later, that somebody would find me in less than 24 hours if I were viciously attacked by rats, well it all just calmed me down.  Maybe I should be more independent than that, but fuck it.  That's not who I am.  It's scary, but I like needing people.  (Sure, ask me again right after I fall in the toilet from the seat being left up and have to clean his beard hair out of my toothbrush on the sink.)

BTW, our apartment is super-cool, and the owners (who live upstairs) are just plain wonderful.  My only current concern is whether or not I can live with a 1-hour commute.  Time will tell, imaginary readers..... time will tell.

ps - I miss Kurt.  Move to Chicago, selfish!

Oh, how I've missed you

I'm having an other-worldly experience.  Right now I'm house sitting for some family members.  Let's start with a little information about them.  They're very active at church - youth group, singing, playing piano, preaching, etc.  They couldn't have children for a long time, so they had exchange students and were Wonderful to them.  They also took in local kids (teenagers) who were having a rough time, got kicked out of home, etc.  They would do Anything to help Anybody.  They come into my restaurant with friends and give me kick-ass tips.  They call me sweetheart.  They volunteer.  They live one block from my grandparents and are there in seconds when the grandparents need anything.  They're generous.  They're really kind people.

That said, I'm watching their dogs and house this week.  They are huge Disney patrons, so there are large, framed drawings of Mickey, Minnie, and others all over the house.  Figurines of Beauty and the Beast are everywhere.  I mean everywhere.  The house is decorated in pastel blues and yellows.  This shouldn't bother me, but they were my high school colors, then my sorority colors, so I feel like my adolescent knick-knacks and uniforms have risen from the dead and puked all around me.  

I think every book that Ann Coulter ever wrote is on their bookshelf.  Glenn Beck is up there, too.  It hurts my feelings.  Or angers me.  Or something.  I got on their computer, and the home page is Rush Limbaugh's web site.  *slow heavy sigh*  Yesterday, I pulled a mug out of the cupboard for coffee, and immediately had to exchange it for another.  It said Bush Cheney '04.  I cringe even typing such a phrase.

So obviously we never discuss politics.  Like I said, these are really warm-hearted people.  And it's difficult for me to reconcile that with my current surroundings.  I feel like I'm in the twilight zone here.

Dear Kitty

I'm not used to having this much down time. Sure, I should be exercising and whatnot, like I always said I would if I had leisure time in the day. Of course I'm not. It does leave more time for reading, which is just lovely, but I watch too much television.

It also leaves lots of time for reflection, daydreaming, etc. I don't particularly enjoy that. It makes me unsure. I question my actual goals, identity, etc., and I'd kind of rather live in a busier, more confident self. But I guess it's good for me.

I'm reading the Diary of Anne Frank. Never read it in school - only the play. It is surprisingly enjoyable. I'm sure most readers experienced this as well, but I feel like I'm sneaking, reading a real person's diary. And a teenage girl, no less. The most privacy-seeking diary keepers of them all. It's a comfort, too. Observing her intelligence, warmth, and flaws. Her humanness, really.

Since I have more time on my hands, and maybe in part due to the emotional vulnerability of my situation or something, I'm more sentimental these days. I cry at movies all the time. We watched the Secret Life of Bees the other day, and I cried at least five times. Hell, we watched the Princess Bride, and I cried when she said, "You're alive. If you want I could fly." I just got a lump in my throat thinking about it. For god's sake. I mean, it's fine to be emotional sometimes. Just don't let me turn into my mother.

Confessions:
1. A Jehovah's Witness came by the other day and asked me if I think I need faith to be able to deal with life in today's society. I said yes, partially because I knew it's what he wanted to hear, and partially because he didn't specify God. I need faith in the human species. Faith in the earth not to collapse. Faith in the weather, my will to push forward, faith in my family and friends, faith that I'll find a job, faith in my future. I need all kinds of faith. My agnosticism (sp?), however, I did not share. And he went away.
2. At night, I turn off the TV on channel 47, which is MSNBC. Grandpa, a fan of having Fox News on Allllll day, will leave it on at least for the full morning. I know he's tired and groggy in the morning, but if I can get him to hear some other opinions, I take that as success. I feel so sneaky!
3. I may have eaten 437 cookies and two brownies tonight. Sue me. The brownies have peanut butter chips and chocolate syrup in them.

Night.

My problem with the blogging

I'm lazy.  Every day there are numerous moments and conversations that make me think, "I'm totally blogging this.  What a memorable/adorable/blogworthy life moment."  And then what happens?  I go to bed and forget.  I'm hoping that in the not-too-distant future, when I have my own place with wireless internets galore, I will take the time to spring open the laptop and jot these things down.  I might have to start carrying one of those mini notepads like the reporters in Superman, so I don't miss anything important.  Like this, when I was making gnocchi at Aunt Sue's house, and part way through cutting the dough in sections, it looked just like a human brain and I fantasized about various mad scientist scenarios:

Or this, after dinner when we were playing Skip-Bo and I accused Grandpa of cheating:

I mean, does it get any more cranky-tastic than that?  See the bandage on his head, by the way?  Yep, that was totally his brain on the counter with the big, scary knife.  Genius!

Or this, my discovery of Grandma's secret strainer storage unit, previously some ridiculous washing device she found to be painstaking:

Or just afterwards, when I was trying to take candid shots and she happened to be holding a pot in her hand.  What a ham.

So this is where I'm hanging out lately, at their house, in this kitchen you see before you with the strange storage units.  There are fresh bread loaves and snickerdoodles everywhere.  My belly is growing at this very moment!

Bread-making today!

Today Grandma taught me her newer, easier, bread recipe.  Fun with dough!  While the first loaves were in the oven, we ate home made strawberry shortcake in the living room.  There were also a few chocolates sent over from Aunt Helen.  So here's a typical grandparents' convo:

Gpa: Did you ever think you'd end up living a lush life like this?

Gma: What?  [She can't hear.]

Gpa: I said, you didn't think you'd be living this lush life, did you?

Gma: Oh, you mean sitting around, eating bon bons?

Gpa: Yeah, but you get to eat bon bons because of me.

Gma: Right.  And we have this wonderful house and family.

Gpa: Yeah, but I'm the best thing in your life.  This other stuff is good, but I'm what makes your life so wonderful.

Gma: [giggles] Yes, yes, you're so right.  

Gpa: You get to sit around all day and do nothing because I take care of you.

Gma: Yes, dear.  Thank you.

Every day, Grandma cooks and cleans for him.  She forgets about food that she likes but he doesn't, wipes his chin if he doesn't feel the food there, irons his clothes, drives him around, and basically waits on him hand and foot.  If he wakes up at 2am and can't get back to sleep, she gets up, too, and sits in the living room playing cards, doing crosswords, sewing, or watching TV until he's ready to go back to bed.

The thing is, she really Does credit him for everything wonderful in her life.  These two are so ridiculous and sometimes so sexist.... and they are soooo happy.  Tonight she and I were laughing about some silliness, and she said, "Life is such fun.  MAKE it fun."  It was a real order.  I just love them.

Pie dates and senior citizens

I've always wanted to be closer to my aunts and uncles - grandparents, too.  Been a little jealous of cousins who seem closer than I feel, try too hard sometimes at family gatherings, etc.

Well, yesterday I called dad about some car trouble I'd been having.  He told me to call Uncle Pat for a mechanic recommendation.  After calls to him, his wife, grandma, and Aunt Carol, I ended up over at Aunt Carol's where she helped me clean my battery cables, refill the water, check the oil, and refill the coolant.  We visited for a while, which was really nice, and she told me to come by whenever just to visit.  Aunt Carol is the type that's ALways sincere.  Everybody is comfortable around her.  She's welcoming alllll the time.  I just love her.  So I should stop by there more often.  And her husband, Uncle Bill is fantastic as well.  Very kind, smart, caring, sentimental, and fatherly.

Anyway, I was feeling good after visiting with her, so I stopped by Grandma and Grandpa's.  Aunt Carol's birthday is on Saturday, and I asked Grandma to teach me how to make her favorite pie as a birthday/thank you present.  Thus, we have a date Saturday for pie making.  Excellent.  (This was all negotiated while Gramps was in the other room yelling "Dumbass" at the TV, upon hearing that his taxes may be raised.  He watches Fox News allll day.)

While I was there, they checked messages, and (great, in years and quality) Aunt Helen left one about tonight's entertainment at the assisted living facility - a big band.  What a great way to spend the evening!  Especially as an alternative to watching TV alone and eating cookie dough.  

I've been in lazy, I'm-stuck-here-so-I'll-rebel-by-doing-nothing-productive-and-eating-horribly mode for the last few days.  Hanging out with the fam is a fantastic remedy for that.  After making the pie date, I went to the store, picked up a few veggies, and came home to make home-made tomato/vegetable soup.  Deelish.  Then I went to pick up Grandma and Grandpa, and we went to see the band with Aunt Helen AND Aunt Sue.  Bonus!

Ever since Uncle Angelo died (which still makes me tear up, he was amazing), Aunt Helen has been extra sentimental.  During one of the songs, she put her arm around me, leaned in, kissed me, and said, "You're such a sweetheart for bringing your grandparents here."  During the next song, she reached across the table, took Grandma's hand, and said, "I love you," a sentiment Grandma promptly returned.  They were so happy and in the moment.  Love them! 

Less meaningful, but totally entertaining, a man in the band left halfway through the performance.  It appeared that he had to be somewhere else, but after the next song, he returned in his band-uniform baby blue polo shirt, black shoes, white socks, and red and black kilt, bagpipe in hand.  He marched through the senior citizen dining area, played a few tunes, told a few jokes, and marched back out.  All the while, the residents and my family sang along.  There's really something priceless about a proud, elderly, American man in a kilt.  Did I mention that the entire band is elderly?  Some of them are in their nineties!

A lovely day, for sure.  Feeling lucky in family and life at the moment.  

Bad Day

Grrrrrrrrrrr

Waited tables at lunch today, and everything went wrong.  A task that usually takes 3 minutes took over 30.  I cut my fingers 3 times rolling silverware - at the cuticle area.  Ouch!  Another server accidentally took two of my tables.  The manager continuously forgot to help me with my tables when needed for discounts, etc.  I was late because, even though it wasn't raining yet, everyone in front of me was driving 5-10 miles below the speed limit.  And most of my tables were really nice, older people who think 10% is a darn good tip.  Needless to say, I didn't bring a big haul home, even though I worked my ass off.  

It's raining.  When I got home, Mom was using the garage, though she knows my windshield leaks.  Whatever.  I just want to take of my shoes, check my email, and get some work done online.  I'm on the job hunt, which is not going well.

She's on the computer.  Of course.  I tell her I can wait until she's done to, you know, work.  She starts sharing the "interesting" things she's reading online about new flower colors and facts about blooming seasons.  Really?  Not only am I annoyed that you're wasting my hour and a half off from work by taking my computer time, but you're doubling the wasted time by reading me this crap?  That's more important?!  (I say as I use the time to blog..... what a brat I am.)

Living with Mom is an experience.  First of all, she's working really hard to fix up her house to live in, her old house to sell, and now grandma's house for sale as well.  Plus she has rosary group, church, prayer group, dance class, walking buddies, her husband living an hour and a half away, etc.  The woman is a busy lady.

HOWEVER, I'm annoyed.  We're not the best roommates.  All those little idiosyncrasies that bugged me as a teenager are back - and there's more.  She's incredibly sloppy, doesn't clean up after herself in the kitchen, leaves hair all over the sink and tub, leaves TWO measly pieces of toilet paper on the roll, when the reserve is out of reach from the toilet.  She talks with her mouth full of food CONstantly, then picks the food out of her teeth with her fingernail, and sucks it off.  Loudly.  Even when she's not talking, she chews with her mouth open, so I get to hear all of her food being chewed.  She leaves used tissues and used paper towels all over the house.  She walks around the house in her "pajamas," which consist of a t-shirt and nothing else.  She sits, cross-legged, on the chairs and couch in these pajamas, and I'm finding little hairs on them.  STOP!  Last night she was a little chilly after she went to bed at 1am.  Instead of, I don't know, grabbing an extra blanket or putting on some pants, she turned the thermostat up to 75.  Seventy-Five!  I nearly sweated into oblivion.

Clearly, none of these things are very important, but added up they are driving me nutso.  I'm ready to scream, especially after today's lunch hour.  This would obviously do more harm than good, so I'll grit my teeth, put on a smile, and go back in for my dinner shift.  

Gah.

Dry spell?

I ran into the grocery store tonight for eggs and milk.  Had a nice pizza with a nice Italian beer for dinner, feeling good.  Decided to spoil myself and pick up some cookie dough (for snacking, not baking, clearly), so I'm a happy girl, kay?

I'm in the check out line (trying to avoid the self-serve aisles in hopes of keeping more grocery jobs available), when I see out of the corner of my eye a tall, brown-haired figure in line behind me.  Is he handsome?  Friendly?  I think he's looking at me - is he looking at me?  I instinctively avoid eye contact.  Why?  Am I shy?  Scared?  Playing hard to get?  Being safe around potential serial killers?  Snap out of it, woman!  

I make a formal decision to turn around and make eye contact.  If he's cute/smiley/friendly/interested/uncreepy, then I'll smile.  How else am I supposed to meet people, anyway?  Take a chance, girl.  It's not like it's that big of a deal.  Smile at the guy.  See what happens.  At best, I'll get a little eye-flirting.... at worst, have to look away, right?

So I did it.  Turned around.  Made eye contact.

It was a woman.

Life keeps going!

So here I am, still in Grandma's house with Mom, waiting tables, job hunting, etc.  We had so many plants from Grandma's memorial service, that I had to name them all one day to keep them straight, a habit I picked up from Steph.  (Naming them, not keeping them straight.  Thank you!  I'll be here all night!)

Rundown - There are three peace lilies: Lady Marmelade, Mabel, and Petunia.  There are two mixes, with multiple plants in one pot: Daphne, and John Jacob Jingleheimerschmidt.  There is one big fern (at least, I think it's a fern), Harry.  These are all in the living room, though sometimes Petunia sleeps with me in my room.  Then in the kitchen, we have an African Violet named Fiona, an aloe plant named Vera, a rosemary plant named Herb, and a little ivy plant, Maresydotes.  Know the song?

So as we're plugging along, keeping things running smoothly, Grandpa A goes and has a stroke.  It was Saturday morning.  Grandma called Uncle Pat, then 911.  Interestingly, an EMT or firefighter or something lives just across the street from them.  He had his radio on, and was there in seconds.  The full crew was there in 3 minutes.  They worked quickly, and he's already recovering really well.  He's a strong dude.  When he's flat on the bed and a nurse asks him to sit up, he shoots up like a rocket.  I can't even do that!

At first he was having a few hallucinations, and he did NOT want to be in the hospital.  He claimed he was building a house, riding a tractor, cleaning his clothes, working on taxes, writing music, etc.  He was always teaching, though.  A nurse wanted him to write a few things to observe his motor skills, and he started sketching houses and explaining the structures to her.  

He's having a hard time keeping his eyes open, and he can't feel some parts on his left side, but he's going strong.  The eyes thing might be due to an inappropriate medication dosage, so hopefully that'll take care of itself soon.  Anyway, I'm so glad I'm here in town so I can visit with him and help out.  He knows who we all are, and is being a good sport.  Grandma said he smiled at her two days ago, which made her think he was much more himself.  Yesterday they took his temperature, and he of course had to keep his mouth closed for the thermometer.  I said, "Aha!  now we know how to keep him quiet!" which made him grin, teeth and all.  Yay!

And as the wheel of life continues to turn, I'm driving east next week for a conference, then my trial.  Fingers crossed......

The agnostic thanks god?

Today was a lull.  Everybody else in the house spent much of the day at church or with church friends.  I stayed in.  Could've worked on my online course, cleaned a little, gone for a walk, looked into job openings, given myself a pedicure, whatevs.  What DID I do?  I sat around, read, ate junk food, and watched TV.  From time to time, a day like this recharges me.  But having been out of work and spending half of my time lounging, this wasn't exactly a much-needed break.  So by the end of the day, I had a headache from my dehydration, TV-watching, and general lack of activity.

I was also starting to feel sorry for myself.  No friends in town, hanging out with my mom, sitting around idle, etc.  I can't call Kurt or Traci to go to a movie.  Got a little lonely.  

Then Geno (my brother closest to me in age) called for a quick chat.  That was nice.  Mom and Joe got home from church, and I started to feel a little trapped.  Judged, even, which I think I was pretty much projecting.  But then Suzanne called just to say hi, see how I was doing after the last couple of weeks, etc.  Thoughtful.  Feeling a little better.  Later tonight, Kurt called to check in.  It was so nice talking to him - normalcy.  Some fresh air from the real world in my head.  Thank goodness.  Or thank God?  I dunno.

Sidenote: with the brainless feeling I get from watching most of today's television, I am greatly appreciative of the escapism provided by books.  It's nice to have the time for them.

Wow, Grandma

I'm presently living in small town, Illinois, where I mostly grew up living with Mom.  I decided, after coming back from Italy, to move to Chicago, but I can't afford to stay there until I get a job.  (Great time to be looking for a job, clearly.)  So in the meantime, I'm staying at Grandma's house with Mom, waitressing downtown, and job hunting.

More importantly.......

Grandma passed away last week, Wednesday January 21, which is five years and one day after her husband died.  Totally surreal experience here.  Her death is not sinking in at all for me, while I work to keep mom happy and help her and my aunt and uncle go through Grandma's stuff.

Lots of pros and cons in this new life of mine.  

Pros: got to hang out with family I don't see often at the memorial.  Spending lots of quality time with my aunt and uncle, as well as mom's new husband.  Bonding with them all, enjoying their company, etc.  Hearing lots of great stories from the good ole' days, finding tons of outstanding pictures, etc.   Being in town with other great relatives.

Cons: living with my mother (much easier than it used to be, though, and rent-free housing is damn good), not having a paycheck yet, trying to avoid politics, racism, and religion as conversational topics in a house full of religious, conservative republicans, living out of a suitcase, sharing one bathroom with four other people, etc.

I really like hanging out with Aunt Diane.  She has such a fantastic, laid-back, humorous, no-nonsense attitude.  One of the pictures I found tonight is of Mom, Dad, (they're long-divorced), Steve and Diane, Grandma and Grandpa, Grandma's parents, and S&D's twins, all sitting around the table for a meal.  Some of them are laughing, and Dad is looking at Diane to see if she's laughing.  I find myself doing that with her, too.  Don't we all have those people in our lives?  We WANT them to enjoy these moments or jokes as much as we do.  We root for it.

This morning my uncle asked me if I've accepted Jesus into my heart.  Oh boy.  He's such a good guy, and he worries about not being able to join his family in heaven.  He wants so badly for us all to live happily with the strong faith that he enjoys.  I think I handled it pretty well.  We went over some bible verses he wanted me to see, and we talked about their meanings.  I explained that I had become an adult in the church willingly in the 8th grade, which is sort of what he means.  (And by willingly, I mean my mother cried until I agreed to do it.)

The truth is, I'm an agnostic at best.  Those critical thinking skills that we human beings are so fond of make it pretty difficult for me to rationalize faith in god and the bible's teachings.  Sometimes it really does seem like there's some kind of being or force around us (little signs that seem too coincidental to actually be so).  However, I can't bring myself to accept the concepts of heaven and hell.  Or the immaculate conception.  Or the child of god rising from the dead.  Doesn't it sound like mythology?   I'm too pansy to say that there's no afterlife whatsoever, because I'm worried that the ghosts I see on the discovery channel will start messing with me to prove otherwise.  But I have no confidence in an afterlife.  It just doesn't make sense to me.  It brings people a lot of comfort, though, and I certainly don't have the heart to argue with any of them.  Plus, it's not something that I'm currently passionate about, so why upset everybody?

(Sidenote: I'm very uncomfortable, however, with the concept that kind, loving non-christians aren't deserving of the same heavenly afterlife as christians.  A buddhist?  A muslim who's never heard of Jesus?  The jews?  And what about the atheists who live their lives kindly, responsibly, lovingly, following the golden rule?  WTF?  Just because they haven't agreed to blindly follow the totally unproven beliefs of one seriously flawed group of people, they should be punished for all eternity?  And doesn't the bible in general seem like one big book of old fables intended to teach people the right thing to do, or at least scare them into it?  It seems like a lot of it might be historically accurate to an extent, but these were written by men, too.  Bias, anyone?) 

Moving on, I'm learning lots of cool stuff about my Grandma.  She was a first-rate broad, no doubt.  Even though I can't hang out with her anymore, I sure do appreciate how she got me here for the time being - to get to know these relatives better, and do a lot more introspective thinking than I'm normally comfortable with - good job, old gal.  It's helping me figure out a lot of stuff.  I hope that would've made her happy.