I had the discussion with my sister when she was here over Christmas, and at least told her she should get her shit in order, and to ask if the 'rents ever let their wishes be known in passing.

But that's nowhere near enough. My father wants to set me up as executor of his will, and even that feels like admitting it.

When I first brought it up to my Dad, I used the tactic of asking him to be my pull-the-plug person. How we all need to think about these things, etc.

I have The Conversation with my folks fairly regularly. It's problematic: they're in Florida and they don't want to move because it's cheaper there and my mother's cousins live nearby. But the kids are no closer than DC (We're in DC, Chicago, and NorCal), which makes helping them in case of illness or accident really difficult. They're 76 and 80, and one broken ankle from near-disaster, as far as I can tell.

They seem to have planned pretty well financially, but I worry about them and the logistics of caring for them when they become unable to live independently--which, frankly, will be in the next few years.

Argh.

Jilli, we could probably sit our Dads down together. Not useful to The Conversation, but I suspect they are of the same stubborn ilk.

Well, I suspect Dad is going to be less stubborn in the near future, because he's having to face these issues with his Mom. Plus, I'm an only child. Who else are my parents going to have the talk with? The cats?

Nope, java. What's the concept?

Laura Linney and Philip Seymour Hoffman play siblings whose parent is aging and I think has dementia. It's supposed to be very good and pretty realistic.

But man, it's morbid.

It's actually not terribly morbid. We have had the conversation coming from my end just recently. It kinda went: "If I die, this is where my will is, the advanced directive and HIPAA releases are there also, as is the donor form."

I am so tired.

OH random! A guy asked me to help jump his truck today when I was in Glendale this morning. His truck was up a half ramp, still visible from the street but less so. After I agreed to help I thought, "Wait, what if this is a trap?" And suddenly, I felt qualmy.

What would you have done?

I'd have helped him. But I probabaly wouldn't have had the intermediate "what if this isn't kosher?" thought. Even if I had, I probably still do it.

Watching "The Trouble With Tribbles" always earworms me with the Wombles theme music. God, I'm doomed.

Baked some cornbread up too. But I have to cook this defrosted chicken too, or toss it. Hmmph.

Did I mention I had a cranky and hollering Noah in his car seat?

I probably wouldn't have helped.

San Francisco finally made the list of stuff white people like: [link]

The City of San Francisco has a very multicultural population that ranges from white to gay to Asian. Within white culture this known as “ideal diversity” for its provision of exotic restaurants while simultaneously preserving property values.

And, Hec, take note:

When talking to a white person who lives in San Francisco, it is best not to bring up New York City. Though they live in a world class city, San Franciscans have a crippling inferiority complex about New York and even hinting at that will make them very sad or very defensive.