Thursday, August 13, 2009

the next chapter

Thank you to all of you who sent condolences on the death of my grandmother. Honey was a brilliant and, frankly, at times difficult woman. At her core, though, I think she was really a woman who just wanted people to love her and wasn't ever quite sure how to make it happen. In that process, I think she sometimes missed the fact that we were all going to love her anyway. She also was a woman, much like myself, who KNOWS her sweets. Anywhere I go, I know where all the ice cream places in a 5 mile radius are--and that's just straight genetics. Her favorite was a butterfinger blizzard, and if you can, you should go get one today: it'sMiracle Treat Day--buy a blizzard and it benefits children's hospitals. A miracle. I think it's a sign. Anyway, I miss her already.

My Danda, her husband of 55 years, has been ill as I mentioned. He has not, however, lost his sense of humor. I asked him how he was? "I was all right, but I got over it." When a neighbor came to express her condolences (a totally adorable old woman) after she left? "What a twit. You'd be playing chess with the King of Poland and she'd bring a Parcheesi set." And of course, of the nursing home rehab where he's currently staying? "I ain't gonna be there long...nice people, but too damn many rules." Please continue to keep him in your thoughts, so that he gets stronger and can (safely) go home soon.

Also, a special shout-out to my Aunt Denise and Uncle Tom who, by virtue of both their proximity and borderline sainthood have shouldered waaayyy more than their fair share of the work involved in caring for our aging family. I honestly don't know what we would do without them, but I'm glad I won't have to find out.

Honey insisted that we have a wake, and as far as I know, her only request was that there be only top-shelf liquor. We honored her request (of course) and told stories and laughed and cried. Mourning is always made a little easier with a pretty spectacular fam and a couple vodka lemonades.

But anyway, the hubs and I are back home and currently packing to move out of our place here. And by "packing," I mean, watching the professional movers pack. This is our first professional move, since the firm is paying for it, and let me tell you: it's way better than doing it yourself. For example, I am sitting here blogging while a nice young man with full sleeves (definition link included for you, Dad) puts all our (sweet new wedding gift) dishes into boxes.

So tomorrow we're loading up our car with everything (hopefully) we're going to need for the next couple months and hitting the road tomorrow. First stop: our hometown.


  1. Hey! I know what full sleeves are. I'm old, not out of touch. Besides, I, like many of my generation, have gaped open-mouthed at scenes from LA Ink episodes which I've accidentally landed on while channel-surfing for old Matlock or Golden Girls reruns to watch.

  2. Good luck, have fun, and I'm so freaking jealous. :)