In totally random news, I really liked CHAOS and am bummed that it's been doomed.

It is way too hot here for me to even consider cooking anything, so I don't know what to do for dinner. I could go to a restaurant, or I could order in (but I don't really like any of my options), or I could go to the grocery store and get some stuff to make a sandwich or salad or something. But my brain is feeling too fuzzy to decide. I've got all the windows open and the fan on, but it's still much too hot, and my air conditioners won't be put in the windows until Tuesday.

When my great-grandmother died, my great-uncle (her eldest son and my grandfather's brother) pretty much just opened the house and said, "Take what you want. What's still here when the house sells gets pitched."

That didn't end well.

The extended family played nice, showed each other things, told stories about items like jewelry or furniture. But my mom's siblings? Went apeshit.

The house eventually sold. My mom and dad rented a UHaul to go up there and retrieve the items that my mom had reserved and also to pick up a huge armoire thing for my uncle. When they got up there, Uncle B said, "See all of this? Noone's wanting it. Take it." My mom, who admittedly, has a hard time letting go of things when she associated them with a loved one, took him at his word and loaded up the truck.

When she got back home and her brother came to pick up his armoire, he freaked out on her. Calling her selfish and materialistic and that all she ever thought about was herself and how could she trample all over Gramma's house like some sort of theif???

My mom was so hurt.

And then it really went to shit when my gramma died. People still don't talk to each other over things they grabby-handed and then found out later it was supposed to go to someone else.

(Not that Nora was grabby-handed. Gramma gave her the damn punch bowl, not cousin.)

When I arrived in my wicked stepsister's house following my father's death, absolutely every single thing that belonged in my family was displayed in her living room. She apparently didn't feel compelled to wait until the actual, you know, death.

"Oh, I didn't think you'd want anything." That was her rationale.

My response? "I'll get some boxes." I took everything.

I just don't understand why it took 7 years to figure out how important it was. GOD.

I am also super sad today and missing Grandma.

Not that you asked, but what I finally decided (and, being a wicked smaht person you already know) was that it wasn't important to her until it was. Instead of processing her grief, she's fixating on a punch bowl. That she totally doesn't get to have neener.

{{Nora}}

Yeah, I'll probably send it along to her.

((nora))

I wouldn't send it to her. Gramma gave it to you and that's where it belongs. You live in New Orleans. There is punch DEMANDING to be bowled!

When my great-grandmother died, my great-uncle (her eldest son and my grandfather's brother) pretty much just opened the house and said, "Take what you want. What's still here when the house sells gets pitched."

I really love what they do in Cryptonomicon, which is to place everything according to the axes of monetary value and emotional value and then dividing it all up equally.

{{Nora}}