Cindy, I just saw that on Twitter and started weeping in my car. (Matt, it's not an ita link)
I just wrote a long post here, but it should really be a blog post instead. Short version: Our friends asked us to introduce our god-daughter to D&D to help get us all through the quarantine (and help shore up online edu) and it's been great. Her little brother, our godson, "plays" also, although he's not quite ready to fully play. I think it's wonderful that it's socially acceptable now, but I also know it still isn't accepted by the MAGA world.
Do people remember me talking about my nephew D ages ago? We’ll he just graduated from college cum laude with a BS in applied mathematics!
Sorry, ita long ago conditioned me against clicking links someone is too eager to share! Not gunna! gestures to ward off evil eye... or other evil body part
Matt, I swear to you on my dog's life that it is wholesome, sweet, and life affirming.
Do people remember me talking about my nephew D ages ago? We’ll he just graduated from college cum laude with a BS in applied mathematics!
Super impressive for a regular aged college grad, but he's, what? Maybe ten? Way to go, kiddo!
health~ma hippocampus
No ornaments on the tree yet, but I'm happy just to look at our joint light-stringing for a while first.
Every time we decorated the tree, once the lights we on, my mom would always say, "It's perfect like this. It doesn't need another thing." And now every time, I decorate a tree, I take a little pause when the lights are on, and hear her say it in my heart. Speaking of grief.
I read something recently about how cultural pressure to pack the dead away and not feel them in your life is a fairly recent and fairly American thing (and also not entirely healthy, as the people and creatures and places you grieve for are what made you you).
I think grief is good, even though it feels bad, because it's a reminder of who we are and where we came from and what we value...and that's exactly why it hits at weird times.
Signed, once had to pull over when La Isla Bonita came on the radio and unlocked grief I didn't know I had in me for a dead friend and I still have no idea why that song
I just had hot cider and I recommend the experience.
I'm so glad Emmett could come down to get the xmas tree yesterday. We've been going to the same place since he was literally in his stroller and he would help carry the tree by holding on to the tip of it.
Now, of course, he can lug the whole thing on his shoulder, but it was fun filming him and Matilda carry it home on a dreary day. And the stockings are up, and the lights are on (but not the ornaments).
I did the sink full of dishes, cleaned the burner where the turkey stew boiled over, made myself my favorite omelette (diced onions sauteed in butter, diced ham and feta).
Now I'm listening to Phil Spector's xmas record, while JZ is out shopping and Matilda sleeps in.
Hec, how is Emmett's roommate's girlfriend? Did she end up having Covid? Is she okay, now?
Oh Volans, I'm just picturing that. I agree with you that grief is good. I don't think our culture is all that good at grieving, either.
I was 35, almost 36 when my father died. By then I'd had a lot of death in my life. I remember thinking of the the loss as a hole. The hole never goes away, but you learn where it is and how to navigate around it, but sometimes you fall in, and sometimes you dive in head first. (And by "you," I mean me.)
All of that is okay, by the way, JZ.
After he died, someone bought my dad's car off my mom (unlike your dad's car, it was nothing special, just a late 1980s blue Buick Regal). I saw it around town a couple of times (Dad had a little sticker with the Lion Rampant of Scotland on the back, so I knew it was his), and it choked me up. I still remember seeing it up close, after we'd had dinner at local seafood restaurant on Main St., in the town where I grew up (Turner's in Melrose, for the locals). The parking lot is a shared one behind that block of stores. We came through the alley and there was Dad's car. It made me sad, but being close enough to touch it unsettled me more than I could explain.
Every time we decorated the tree, once the lights we on, my mom would always say, "It's perfect like this. It doesn't need another thing." And now every time, I decorate a tree, I take a little pause when the lights are on, and hear her say it in my heart. Speaking of grief.
What a beautiful memory, Susan.
Hi everyone. Miss you. I’ve been pretty much off the board for the last two weeks and am just now catching up. Hugs and -ma and love to all who need it. In addition to school, I’ve been dealing with my dad’s continuing cognitive issues from 3000 miles away. I would normally just fly out there to help with paperwork and such, but that’s impossible right now. Sigh.
