What I Wore (aka narcissism, but I pretend it isn't)

So today's Memorial Day here in the states (though I think most non-state readers either are ex-pats or just totally knew that already kthx). As usual, it was grey and actually pretty chilly - it reminded me of last year when I wore a fleece jacket and sweater to the 4th of July party I went to. So, so sad. You see advertisments on tv where everyone's rocking out at this great, sunny bash, drinking beer, wearing swimsuits (in May bahahahahahaaaa), and being all cute and summery.
Yeeeeeeeah... that's obviously not the lovely PNW. It's probably 55F tops. I had to layer. I LAYERED. It was slightly upsetting, but then today was kind of upsetting anyhow.
I went to Playboy of the Western World's grave site finally - I haven't been there since my "Last" (dundundunnnnn) post here, which would be Grandpa's funeral in 2009. I brought out some of our lilacs and some insane tropicana-melon colored azaleas, in a nice glass jar. Except when I got out there, I remembered, right... no glass allowed, and had to dig out a powerade bottle. Lovely! Gah. I hope PoTWW would've laughed. I think he would've liked the flowers and been proud of my garden.
I brought some lilacs over to his brother's headstone too, which is one of my favorites. I know that sounds macabre  but it is very, very sweet. My grandpa's brother E had Down's, and lived to only be about 35 at the most, I think. He was the apple of everyone's eye and my great grandma loved him no differently than any of her other kids (and this is in the 30's when he was born, and waaaaaaay rural). When he died, after a much-longer-than-anticipated life, they planted these two beautiful shrubs flanking his headstone, which itself reads "Darling E____" and is one of the prettiest engravings I've seen in a graveyard. The two shrubs have grown together and the effect is beautiful.
So anyhow, I opted not to wear makeup today, but that's not particularly unusual. I thought I'd play it safe, I'm feeling beyond sentimental and my heart is pretty raw. I really miss PoTWW. I think Rockmother referred to him once as a "gem of a man" and I couldn't find a more appropriate phrase for him.

And this is what I wore...

Hoodie: Obey

Blouse: Target, more likely than not

Skirt: Old Navy circa '05!

Tights, socks: unknown, mysteriously appeared

Shoes: goodwill, brand worn off!

I can't believe I've had that skirt so long! I guess it stayed nice because it sat in my closet being too small for 4 years or so. I'm pretty excited that it fits again. Not so excited that my wedding band is falling off, but hey, that's life. Stuff is fixable, or barring that, replaceable. Weight loss is weird, though.

And you'll have to excuse my dorky faces, I get really nervous when someone takes my picture and make goofy faces like Calvin. It's just because I feel really awkward and embarrassed. Hopefully I'll get over it!

edited: removed image that kept popping up on german google searches for weird reasons YEAH NO THANKS

well harumph. not so fun, this one.

So much for being in the habit of posting... as soon as life picks up, I forget about everything on the ol clickernet except for email and things like thisiswhyyourefat.com and failblog.com. I am a sucker for cheap thrills on the fly, what can I say?

These past two weeks have been nicely hectic, I've attended two parties (a beer tasting fete and a housewarming shindig) and hosted a couple of dinners for friends, had a midwife appointment or two, planned our July vacation to Vashon Island (we are staying in TEPEES OMG TEPEES YALL), finished packing our birthin supply box, unpacked clothes in Bumblebee's room, and started the final baby shower planning shizz. I figure I had best get all the socializing in that I can before I am a fucking mess of sleep deprivation, spit up, eye crusties and spilled coffee. It's gonna be a long few months of adjusting, and Domo-Kun (aka manwife) only gets two freakin weeks off. Though, at this point, we are just glad he is still employed... and that we have benefits... le sigh.

Also, there is the not so fun thing where my favorite grandparent died last week. Which pretty much trumps all at this point, in terms of being motivated to do stuff and say stuff. If you read Firstnation's blog, you already know, and yeah, I am doing ok. I am not one for pretending to be all stoic and stuff, I kind of break down a little and get all sniffly in the middle of doing something mundane... even moreso while acting as fetal tupperware. So there have been lots of times where I like, make toast? chop tomatoes? look outside?, and I start crying a little.
I am glad I have so many memories of my Grandpa, he was the raddest. It is weird to hear other people's takes on him - to me, he was my sweet, bald, bowlegged, cookin' demon Grandpa. He used to grow tomatoes and plums and dahlias and he is the only person I met who grew currants and *liked* them. He drove around in a tiny porsche 912 around downtown while wearing a greek fisherman's cap and always wore birkenstock-style clogs (which are my faves, too!). Like my dad, Gpa always, always, always had to roll up or hem his pantlegs, due to a 31" inseam at 5' 8" lol. My Grandpa used to travel to Greece and would come home with armloads of decorative pots, engraved platters, textiles, and jewlery and bake baklava and dolmathes for us. Every year he would work at our local heritage festival and hand out ribbons to members of families who had been here the longest. Every time I went to his house as a little girl, he had cookies tucked away in a tin on top of his fridge - the red one, with sailboats, and had Andes mints in the milk glass candy dish on the coffee table and I could always take as many as I could get away with. I remember staring at his beautiful china cabinet filled with ornately decorated eggs, painted dishes and colored glass, and how thick the shag carpeting was in the dining room. Oh, and how terrifying the dog demon mask from Thailand was... he kept it in the bathroom, right above the damned toilet! Ack!
So now that he is gone, everyone wants to talk about how he "really" was, i.e. his personal life. I wasn't a part of that life, and that is ok, I respect that still. I am his granddaughter, I don't NEED to know who he was dating. I do not care about the wild shit he did, nor will I ever, EVER judge him for any of it if I do find out someday. Grandpa took a lot of care to cultivate very separate private and social and romantic lives, and I respect that. I have no interest in prying or hearing gossip, and I am a little upset that some of his old queen friends think it is appropriate, funny, or cheeky to do so now... ESPECIALLY to my Dad. My Dad and Grandpa never talked about the fact that Gpa was gay. They had their own relationship, and while it was not always easy or entirely honest, it was good and sweet and they loved each other very much. It is unfair for people to go and try and shit on that by sniggering around about my grandpa's young lovers and stuff. What about that seems appropriate to them, I wonder? It seems cruel, even if they are just trying to get a rise out of my Dad. I understand that part of his life even if he never came out and said anything about it. He knew we all knew, so I don't think it bore mentioning. It was fine, there is no need to "freak out the straight folks" (which...have they MET my mom? straight folk? really?). It's not like my dad ran to grandpa to dish on HIS love life. I don't get it, Ma and I are a bit queerish and it's well-known. Do they expect us to gasp in shock and clutch the pearls? Good lord. It is none of my business or anyone else's for that matter, and I hope people STFU soon.
Anyhow. Had to vent. It's a weird thing, to lose someone you were actually close to. I took the weekend to cry and hide out and be clingy with my dudes. I drank a lot of tea and ate lots of cheese and jam, and laid in bed reading a bit. This week I am mostly baking and watching old movies - lots of Garbo (apparently I *like* to be sad?), wizard of oz, etc. If you've got a sweet, kinda funny old movie that you love, hook it up! I even love the shit out of It's a Wonderful Life. It's just about my favorite classic after The Quiet Man.

Phew. I wasn't expecting to vent. I am just worried about MY parents. As Grandpa's caretakers, I am sure they are glad to see him out of pain and feel happy for him... he passed in a very lovely, calm way. He had his wits and his friends and family around ALL the time, he was well-loved and got to go without a lot of fuss or muss or hospital bullshit. On the other hand, they are busy feeling relieved and glad in a sad way, but I think they need to just go be very sad. Or see a movie and have some comfort food and go see a show and have a beer. Or have a weekend trip out of town. They deserve it, after all this time and pain and sad stuff. They are my heroes, they did this so well, and they always treated my Grandpa with the utmost respect and dignity - even when it was difficult, painful, or frustrating to do so. It was incredibly tough for them to "parent" my hyper-independent Gpa, and they did a damned good job. They deserve some time to go and do what they need to. I love you, mom and dad, and I know Grandpa did more than anything.

Ok. I have a dire need for cocoa and Amelie and a butt-snuggle after all that. I feel a bit better, thanks for the venting and grieving.