choco_frosh: (Default)
...I should really be looking for jobs. Uh, constructive procrastination?

So it's just as well that [personal profile] teenybuffalo and [personal profile] sovay weren't available for dinner Saturday night, 'cause that's about the worst batch of Vegetarian Heart Attack I think I've ever made. Moral of the story: taste the basil before you buy it.

Sunday I skipped bellringing (unnecessarily, as I realized later) to haul up to New Hampshire for this big family reunion thing my Aunt had organized. This would not, frankly, have been my first choice for the day: in additional to my campanological commitments, I hate driving,* I don't really have much of anything in common with my cousins anymore, and given my finances I'm kinda feeling like the black sheep of the family. But she was going to feel hurt if I didn't turn up, so...

And actually, it was ok. I mean, I still don't have much in common with my cousins (and almost feel more at home with my cousins-once-removed, the elder of whom has grown about a foot since I saw her last), but I really shoulda caught up with my stepcousin K., who (I learned) had just moved to within a few blocks of me. (wtf?) And the food was tasty, and I got to see my brother and get the latest from him.
More importantly (and this was an even bigger shock than the suddenly 5'6" cousin), I got to see my uncle. RM... huh. That's a story.
See, about, ooo, a year and a bit ago, RM. found out that the weird digestive problems he'd been having were, in fact, bowel cancer. And that would be bad enough, but, well, he was the one kid whom Grandma succeeded in bringing up as a Christian Scientist, and if you're a Christian Scientist and get cancer, the options are supposed to be 1. Miracle** or 2. Die faithfully. RM. ultimately went with option 3., which is Stop Being A Christian Scientist (I guess?) and actually get modern medical treatment; but when Mom visited him last spring, he looked about on his deathbed anyway, and I hadn't gotten an update since, so I was amazed he'd made it up. ("Your mom's always been the worrier," was his [typically] sardonic comment.) In fact, though, he'd apparently made the drive up from Ithaca just fine, and while he had lost more weight than was healthy, he was a lot less corpse-like than I'd been expecting.*** And not super energetic, but seemed to be mostly his old self.
So yeah. That was my weekend. Well, that and reading too many fantasy novels (and I owe you a post on that, too), with less than optimal results for my census productivity. I should get on that. First, job searching.

Nine days til I leave for England. Still don't know which city.

* The drive up, at least, was substantially better than I'd anticipated--in terms of driving time. What I ALSO hadn't expected was that they're still in the process of widening I93, thus simultaneously rubbing your face in the fact that they're tearing up the landscape so as to cover more of it with tarmac AND the bits where extra lanes might actually be useful still aren't done yet. Like seriously, guys, why was the interchange at the south end of 293 not the FIRST thing you did? And why do I suspect that the answer is somehow connected to the fact that there are still hundred-foot piles of gravel by the roadside?

** I don't know whether or not that's EXACTLY how people who go in for faith healing would describe it, but f--- them, because if it isn't, than they're even more irrational than I think they are anyway.

*** I also noticed he'd lost some hair, but then Grandpa was mostly bald by the time HE hit 65, and my brother's at least heading in that direction, so I don't actually think that's significant.
choco_frosh: (Default)
End of a lot of eras

Wow. I...have been really bad at keeping this updated. A lot's happened: I will try to work out how to update the roughly three of you who read this thing, without going TOO tl:dr. So:

On Saturday I drove up to New Hampshire for what I've been explaining to people as my grandmother's wake. Which wasn't a completely accurate description, but as noted earlier* she dies in December; Christian Scientists apparently don't believe in funerals; and my mother and her siblings had decided that since Grandpa had always really liked taking people out to dinner, this would be a good way to remember both of them.

So that was a bittersweet occasion in a lot of ways, but I'm not going to focus on that, other than to say: thus ends the story of my grandparents. Because this also overlaps with/results in the ends of a few other eras.

No, unfortunately the "working in the mailroom" era is not among them.

First-off: my aunt has FINALLY sold the cabin )

Secondly... )

Conversation over the hors d'oevres )

Finally--and, for a lot of reasons, I feel weird about posting this here, but it's somewhat important.The good news. )

* Interestingly, I apparently was ringing at Old North the morning after she died, and was there again on Saturday morning, which meant that I rushed home afterwards, threw myself through the shower, and got in the car. (Well, once I manoevred it out from behind my housemate's car.)
The other difference is that this time I managed to NOT fuck up Plain Hunt! Booyeah!

** No, not the Henry-Jamesian one. Her sister. Well, one of them. The relatively normal one.

*** Ironically, what I'd really been hoping to inherit from the cottage was the cast iron skillet. The paintings, as far as I was concerned, might as well have stayed with the new owners if they wanted 'em, just like the stuffed dear head (c. 1940). Oh well.

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