(no subject)
What is going on?
I've been pretty busy with this and that. Work's still nuts, looking forward to the long weekend next week. Ended up seeing Order of the Phoenix twice, for various reasons that eventually boil down to "Well, there were these people who wanted me to go see it with them, and someone else who wanted me to go see it with him." Meg finally gave in on her "Oh, I need to read Deathly Hallows TWICE before I loan it to you, and by the way I take way longer when I'm reading it the second time, so you might have to wait a couple of weeks" thing, and just let me read it, and so far it's good.
Before she gave it to me last night I was rooting around in my book cupboard and moving things around to make room for The Heart of Stars which I had finished reading just before, and I discovered some ratty old science fiction book that had somehow been shoved behind everything in the space on the second shelf from the top. I have a vague memory of buying it second hand, probably a year and a half ago, but I haven't a clue if I ever got around to reading it or not. After Deathly Hallows, maybe.
I booked some time off work and I'm headed down to Grand Forks for Grandma's eightieth birthday weekend after next. Debbie's down in Victoria getting radiation, and Mom's planning to go join her the same weekend I leave.
I suspect I'm going to borrow the car and go get my hair cut today. I'm getting a bit shaggy, and if I'm going to go see my family I ought to look good. Mom says my hair isn't long or anything, and I hardly need it, but when it starts getting shaggy then my cowlicks appear. I don't really mind them too much, honestly. I don't look much like my dad's side of the family, apparently being the female version of my maternal grandfather (apparently my handwriting looks like his, too) but my cowlicks are the same as my father's.
It baffles me that the side of my family that I have more contact with, because Mom was never really close to her brother, is the side of the family that I am not out of the closet to. Except to Kurt, and I haven't seen him in ages. And it makes well-meaning sympathy for the fact that my mother is a lesbian that much stupider.
You know what is going to happen? I will get sunburnt. I will wear sunblock, and I will burn anyway because I'm just that much further south than I usually am, and the angle of the sun is a little more direct, and I will spend the entire trip telling the rest of my family (who are nearly all dark-haired, pale-skinned, and easily prone to tanning, except for my half-Italian cousins who are just darker than the rest of us, period, because Uncle Fil is from Southern Italy and so dark he gets mistaken for East Indian) that yes, I did wear sunblock; yes, I did reapply; yes, I did everything you are supposed to do and I burned anyway because I am a freak of nature. It will happen. I am predicting this.
I'm looking forward to this trip, as I usually am, but I'm also stressing out over it, as I usually am.
I've been pretty busy with this and that. Work's still nuts, looking forward to the long weekend next week. Ended up seeing Order of the Phoenix twice, for various reasons that eventually boil down to "Well, there were these people who wanted me to go see it with them, and someone else who wanted me to go see it with him." Meg finally gave in on her "Oh, I need to read Deathly Hallows TWICE before I loan it to you, and by the way I take way longer when I'm reading it the second time, so you might have to wait a couple of weeks" thing, and just let me read it, and so far it's good.
Before she gave it to me last night I was rooting around in my book cupboard and moving things around to make room for The Heart of Stars which I had finished reading just before, and I discovered some ratty old science fiction book that had somehow been shoved behind everything in the space on the second shelf from the top. I have a vague memory of buying it second hand, probably a year and a half ago, but I haven't a clue if I ever got around to reading it or not. After Deathly Hallows, maybe.
I booked some time off work and I'm headed down to Grand Forks for Grandma's eightieth birthday weekend after next. Debbie's down in Victoria getting radiation, and Mom's planning to go join her the same weekend I leave.
I suspect I'm going to borrow the car and go get my hair cut today. I'm getting a bit shaggy, and if I'm going to go see my family I ought to look good. Mom says my hair isn't long or anything, and I hardly need it, but when it starts getting shaggy then my cowlicks appear. I don't really mind them too much, honestly. I don't look much like my dad's side of the family, apparently being the female version of my maternal grandfather (apparently my handwriting looks like his, too) but my cowlicks are the same as my father's.
It baffles me that the side of my family that I have more contact with, because Mom was never really close to her brother, is the side of the family that I am not out of the closet to. Except to Kurt, and I haven't seen him in ages. And it makes well-meaning sympathy for the fact that my mother is a lesbian that much stupider.
You know what is going to happen? I will get sunburnt. I will wear sunblock, and I will burn anyway because I'm just that much further south than I usually am, and the angle of the sun is a little more direct, and I will spend the entire trip telling the rest of my family (who are nearly all dark-haired, pale-skinned, and easily prone to tanning, except for my half-Italian cousins who are just darker than the rest of us, period, because Uncle Fil is from Southern Italy and so dark he gets mistaken for East Indian) that yes, I did wear sunblock; yes, I did reapply; yes, I did everything you are supposed to do and I burned anyway because I am a freak of nature. It will happen. I am predicting this.
I'm looking forward to this trip, as I usually am, but I'm also stressing out over it, as I usually am.