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vinniebatmanWell, I haven't written in over six weeks. In that time, I have:
-Gotten made near poor by the government;
-Seen Conan O'Brien live;
-Went clubbing in Sacramento's gay district (Lavender Heights);
-Worked;
-Mourned the death of my surrogate grandfather;
-Visited my Aunt; and,
-Babysat my cousin's kids.
So yeah, not a great time, but here's the basics.
Kostya and I had to pay almost $3,000 on our taxes. Hear that sound? That was my head exploding. Oh yeah. So I changed my deductions, which means I take home about $280 less a month, as does my husband. Hopefully, we won't get fucked over next April. It's a bit of a jolt for my finances with my student loans, car payments, rent and my credit card debt. I shouldn't have let my credit card get so out of control, but that's my bad.
In happier news, Conan was fucking hilarious, and I also got touch him as he walked by us. Very exciting. He was so honest, happy, self-depreciating, and just a strange, funny goofball. Good times. I also got to see Bethany, Corinna, Carmen and Shasta over the course of the weekend. However, due to some miscommunications, our plans were at cross-purposes, so it wasn't the most fulfilling visit in terms of connecting with my old friends.
Anywhoo, Conan preformed on Thursday night, so Friday, Bethany had to work. She works in a lab and is friends with a woman named Christy and two gay guys named Caleb and... something with an L. Maybe. The long and short of it is that they decided to go clubbing and I went with them. They were all really cool and I liked hanging with them. It was a lot of fun, I really enjoyed it.
I also worked. Um, yeah, that's.... Well, that's pretty self-explanatory. Though the week of the 17th, one of my coworkers, Eileen, told me her father wasn't doing well and they had called in hospice.
Which leads to the sad stuff. My grandfathers weren't the greatest. One was insane, and hit me when I was a toddler, but died when I was 6. I luckily don't remember him, a fact both parents are glad of. The other one had a horrible childhood, suffered PTSD from WWII, and suffered from pretty bad depression. If he called me and I didn't run to him when he called, he would ignore me for weeks, physically, forcefully pushing me away when I tried to hug him. It wasn't always happy. Granted, this is far from the worst situation many have experienced at the hands of family or friends. And my grandpa may have hit his kids, but he always took care of them. They have some good memories of him too, and know that no matter what, he did love them. In his later years, he did say that he'd get up every morning and tell himself that he needed to be nicer, but then he'd lose his temper and couldn't control it. So yeah, he was overall a good guy, but it wasn't like I ever had that happy grandfather relationship.
Harold is an old man who we met at church, along with his wife, Bertie, 16 years ago. They had 7 children, 5 of whom died (one by AIDS, one in a hunting accident). They only had step-grandchildren, and they were spoiled brats. But they were so nice to our family, so they just sort of became a part of my family. I stared calling Harold 'Grandpa Harold,' and he was just a really great man. About one or 2 years ago, he was diagnosed with Parkinsons, in addition to his high blood pressure and other aging related issues. He got so bad that he couldn't even really leave the house. He'd spent the decades since his retirement working around his house, landscaping, clearing brush, things like that.
Monday, Eileen's father died, which was a sad occurrence and just kind of made all of us at the office sad, knowing how sad Eileen would be. Monday night, BART, the regional transit system, was fucked up, so I was on MUNI, which takes forever. As I was on MUNI, my Mom called me. She said that Bertie had called in hospice; Harold couldn't talk or even eat anymore, so they'd taken him off all of his medications and were letting nature take its course. It cook all of my control to not cry. And when I got home, I cried for a hour. And every time I thought of it, the tears would come again. Tuesday night, my Dad's flight returning from Denmark got in late, so we didn't get to bed until 1 in the morning, so I went in late. I woke up Thursday morning knowing I needed to call Bertie and just tell her I was thinking of them, but when I tried to think of what I'd say, I broke down. So I didn't go to work.
Friday was a better day. I got packed for the three day weekend to visit my Aunt. On the Friday before a three day weekend, our office closes a few hours early (but we get paid for the two hours), though it is on the condition we finish our work. So in less than two hours, I was in Woodland visiting my Aunt. Despite the crappy week I'd had, I knew seeing my Auntie and visiting her would make me feel better. We've always had a connection; for one thing, our toes are oddly shaped in the exact same ways, and we're a bit anal about some things. Anyways, if you've never been there, Woodland is a smaller, rural city. It was a really nice change from SF, and we were able to go to an great barbecue place.
Saturday, mom called me and told me the news I was dreading: Harold had died. I cried, but not as much as I thought I would. I think I started saying goodbye to him Monday because I knew it was the end. I still cried, but I think it was the best thing for him. I love him so much.
After lunch, we went and saw "Prince of Persia." It was what you'd expect from a Disney action flick. Flashy, but a generally fun ride. And Jake Gyllenahalakemean was cute as hell. And ripped. It was very nice. After the movie, we went and hung out/babysat my cousin Adam's little girls, Joey (5) and Charley (15 months). It was a lot of fun and it made ridiculously happy that Joey remembered me so well. We played and read, and just had fun. We had spaghetti for dinner, and sweet fucking Christ, Charley was COVERED in bits of spaghetti. It was messy and adorable. After we put her to bed, Joey sat up with us watching t.v. for about 45 minutes, and she cuddled with me, and then Karen. It made me all wibbly and happy.
And that's about it, really. The exciting bits of my life the last 6 weeks or so.
-Gotten made near poor by the government;
-Seen Conan O'Brien live;
-Went clubbing in Sacramento's gay district (Lavender Heights);
-Worked;
-Mourned the death of my surrogate grandfather;
-Visited my Aunt; and,
-Babysat my cousin's kids.
So yeah, not a great time, but here's the basics.
Kostya and I had to pay almost $3,000 on our taxes. Hear that sound? That was my head exploding. Oh yeah. So I changed my deductions, which means I take home about $280 less a month, as does my husband. Hopefully, we won't get fucked over next April. It's a bit of a jolt for my finances with my student loans, car payments, rent and my credit card debt. I shouldn't have let my credit card get so out of control, but that's my bad.
In happier news, Conan was fucking hilarious, and I also got touch him as he walked by us. Very exciting. He was so honest, happy, self-depreciating, and just a strange, funny goofball. Good times. I also got to see Bethany, Corinna, Carmen and Shasta over the course of the weekend. However, due to some miscommunications, our plans were at cross-purposes, so it wasn't the most fulfilling visit in terms of connecting with my old friends.
Anywhoo, Conan preformed on Thursday night, so Friday, Bethany had to work. She works in a lab and is friends with a woman named Christy and two gay guys named Caleb and... something with an L. Maybe. The long and short of it is that they decided to go clubbing and I went with them. They were all really cool and I liked hanging with them. It was a lot of fun, I really enjoyed it.
I also worked. Um, yeah, that's.... Well, that's pretty self-explanatory. Though the week of the 17th, one of my coworkers, Eileen, told me her father wasn't doing well and they had called in hospice.
Which leads to the sad stuff. My grandfathers weren't the greatest. One was insane, and hit me when I was a toddler, but died when I was 6. I luckily don't remember him, a fact both parents are glad of. The other one had a horrible childhood, suffered PTSD from WWII, and suffered from pretty bad depression. If he called me and I didn't run to him when he called, he would ignore me for weeks, physically, forcefully pushing me away when I tried to hug him. It wasn't always happy. Granted, this is far from the worst situation many have experienced at the hands of family or friends. And my grandpa may have hit his kids, but he always took care of them. They have some good memories of him too, and know that no matter what, he did love them. In his later years, he did say that he'd get up every morning and tell himself that he needed to be nicer, but then he'd lose his temper and couldn't control it. So yeah, he was overall a good guy, but it wasn't like I ever had that happy grandfather relationship.
Harold is an old man who we met at church, along with his wife, Bertie, 16 years ago. They had 7 children, 5 of whom died (one by AIDS, one in a hunting accident). They only had step-grandchildren, and they were spoiled brats. But they were so nice to our family, so they just sort of became a part of my family. I stared calling Harold 'Grandpa Harold,' and he was just a really great man. About one or 2 years ago, he was diagnosed with Parkinsons, in addition to his high blood pressure and other aging related issues. He got so bad that he couldn't even really leave the house. He'd spent the decades since his retirement working around his house, landscaping, clearing brush, things like that.
Monday, Eileen's father died, which was a sad occurrence and just kind of made all of us at the office sad, knowing how sad Eileen would be. Monday night, BART, the regional transit system, was fucked up, so I was on MUNI, which takes forever. As I was on MUNI, my Mom called me. She said that Bertie had called in hospice; Harold couldn't talk or even eat anymore, so they'd taken him off all of his medications and were letting nature take its course. It cook all of my control to not cry. And when I got home, I cried for a hour. And every time I thought of it, the tears would come again. Tuesday night, my Dad's flight returning from Denmark got in late, so we didn't get to bed until 1 in the morning, so I went in late. I woke up Thursday morning knowing I needed to call Bertie and just tell her I was thinking of them, but when I tried to think of what I'd say, I broke down. So I didn't go to work.
Friday was a better day. I got packed for the three day weekend to visit my Aunt. On the Friday before a three day weekend, our office closes a few hours early (but we get paid for the two hours), though it is on the condition we finish our work. So in less than two hours, I was in Woodland visiting my Aunt. Despite the crappy week I'd had, I knew seeing my Auntie and visiting her would make me feel better. We've always had a connection; for one thing, our toes are oddly shaped in the exact same ways, and we're a bit anal about some things. Anyways, if you've never been there, Woodland is a smaller, rural city. It was a really nice change from SF, and we were able to go to an great barbecue place.
Saturday, mom called me and told me the news I was dreading: Harold had died. I cried, but not as much as I thought I would. I think I started saying goodbye to him Monday because I knew it was the end. I still cried, but I think it was the best thing for him. I love him so much.
After lunch, we went and saw "Prince of Persia." It was what you'd expect from a Disney action flick. Flashy, but a generally fun ride. And Jake Gyllenahalakemean was cute as hell. And ripped. It was very nice. After the movie, we went and hung out/babysat my cousin Adam's little girls, Joey (5) and Charley (15 months). It was a lot of fun and it made ridiculously happy that Joey remembered me so well. We played and read, and just had fun. We had spaghetti for dinner, and sweet fucking Christ, Charley was COVERED in bits of spaghetti. It was messy and adorable. After we put her to bed, Joey sat up with us watching t.v. for about 45 minutes, and she cuddled with me, and then Karen. It made me all wibbly and happy.
And that's about it, really. The exciting bits of my life the last 6 weeks or so.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-06-04 04:13 am (UTC)Gabrielle
no subject
Date: 2010-06-05 05:19 am (UTC)~Alice~
no subject
Date: 2010-06-05 05:35 am (UTC)Gabrielle
no subject
Date: 2010-06-04 05:00 am (UTC)Yeah, for Conan. I'm so jealous. And clubbing in Sac? Nice. That's nearly spitting distance for me. *g*
*hugs and pets*
no subject
Date: 2010-06-05 05:25 am (UTC)*hugs back*
~Alice~
no subject
Date: 2010-06-04 05:08 am (UTC)Also, sorry to hear that the government is evil, and charged you so much :(
I am glad you had fun at Conan, and that you had a couple fun times in the last six weeks.
::Hugs and sends good vibes your way::
no subject
Date: 2010-06-05 05:27 am (UTC)~Alice~
no subject
Date: 2010-06-05 06:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-04 06:06 pm (UTC)And the IRS needs to change their initials to EVIL.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-05 05:28 am (UTC)Thanks for the hugs.
~Alice~
no subject
Date: 2010-06-06 08:57 pm (UTC)As for your Grandpa Harold . . . I'm so sorry. I wish things could have been different, that he could have been healthier, and lived longer. I wish you didn't have to hurt. I hate it when people I love are in pain.
If you need to talk, my internet connection 'll be up tonight. I hope.
::hugs::