Jedi. Definitely.

So here I am in England, 9000 baht poorer, pretty gosh-darned knackered, but happy to be home in the loving bosom of the family.

ion, England? Is cold. I mean, from my pov. What with the newly-returned-from-the-tropics thing. (Also, bears continue to shit in the woods, the pope continues to be Catholic, and Fox execs continue to be a shower of cunts.)

Brrrrrr!

I have deserted The Cat Daniel for well nigh 3 weeks. I've left him in the apartment, where he is in familiar territory, can snuggle under the duvet and stretch his legs, rather than consigning him to Cat Prison, where he would be in a wee cage being miserable. Friends are coming in to feed him, and hopefully they will also spend an hour or two drinking my tea/watching my DVDs, after which The Cat Daniel may possibly venture out from under the duvet to investigate them. Because if they just go in and put out food & water, he will hide hide hide.

I feel quite guilty, but I did stay there all freaking Summer keeping him company. And it's Christmas. And it's 12 months since I've been home/seen the fam.

Gosh, I'm tired.

Fay, he'll be fine. Really.

Church got canceled. THANK GOD! I'm probably going to hell for that, but oh well. For now I sleep more.

From the sound of it hitting our windows, I think little bits of ice are falling, rather than snow.

For those who don't read her blog, Deb Grabien is holed up in a Days Inn in downtown Cleveland.

What a place for a Californian.

The nearby grocery store is selling half-pound bags of roasted, salted sunflower nuts (no shells) for $1.

I should not have an open bag next to me while preparing breakfast.

nom nom nom

I'm just at the point where I'm afraid I'm just going to start laughing hysterically at the funeral or when something else goes wrong.

Hang in there, Nora. You and yours remain in my thoughts.

The worst case my sisters and I had of hysterical laughter was in the hospital where my father was a patient. My BIL was horrified, but we just couldn't stop. My dear father had some brain problems resulting from his strokes. Most of the time he was lucid, but there were times when he just spoke gibberish, and other times he would create the most outlandish stories. He would get totally pissed at us if we didn't accept as truth when he told us he had huge sums of cash buried in the back yard, or crazy tales of adventures he had taken. We were discussing some of these in the waiting room and the combination of fear and stress started one of us laughing and that was the end for all of us. The more BIL yelled at us for being disrespectful the more we cried and laughed.

ION, I am broke city this year and one of the gifts I am giving our family members is a calendar for 2008 with pictures of the birthday people on their dates. Anniversary people and so forth. Digging through all the pictures. I am going to have to do some scanning. It is a fun project and I believe that everyone will enjoy it.

The eulogy my sister read at my dad's funeral was totally funny. Everyone was laughing, and crying too, but lots of laughing. He himself was a very funny man and it felt like it was the perfect way to memorialize him.

Laughing is a better means of stress relief than crying if you can manage it. The Irish funerals that were frequent events in my childhood featured lots of laughing, and crying, and drinking of course.

The worst case my sisters and I had of hysterical laughter was in the hospital where my father was a patient. My BIL was horrified, but we just couldn't stop. My dear father had some brain problems resulting from his strokes. Most of the time he was lucid, but there were times when he just spoke gibberish, and other times he would create the most outlandish stories. He would get totally pissed at us if we didn't accept as truth when he told us he had huge sums of cash buried in the back yard, or crazy tales of adventures he had taken. We were discussing some of these in the waiting room and the combination of fear and stress started one of us laughing and that was the end for all of us. The more BIL yelled at us for being disrespectful the more we cried and laughed.

This was us in my mom's hospital room for like four straight months. Fortunately we're immune (or more like, oblivious) to the disapproval of others.

I want my funeral to be funny. I'm hoping for lots of slapstick.