July 26, 2004

It's a shame you only see your family at weddings & funerals. Although I guess if you saw them more often, they might not be so charming.

Last weekend was my grandpa's funeral (we had a memorial in Houston the week before, but this was the real, bells & incense, final-resting-place version, in California). Aside from the inherent lousiness of a funeral, it was actually really nice, a rather light, philosophical, affirming service hosted by Father Moonbeam. (Kidding aside, I was totally into him & would fully check out mass if he were dishing it up here... I wonder if Texas Catholics are as wacky as LA Catholics? I haven't been to mass since I was 16, but I'm thinking probably not....)

After the funeral, we all went to Mike & Mary's (who have been one word, Mikeandmary, as long as I can remember) and thanks to Mike Langan's patented bottomless cup service, I got as drunk as a lord, squeezed in just the right amount of Family Time, and then took off for a marvelous night with some old friends, including the most excellent Kevin, my long-lost roommate from Sandy Eggo. His wife seems top-notch, and they have one of those sticky black dogs that's naked but for the one little tuft of elephant hair.

If I wasn't having such a grand, drunken time, I might've hit a real envious sulk after seeing their fabulous and surreal wedding pictures. As it was, I stayed giddy and had my first really happy night since before Lowell went into the hospital.

And before that was this retarded fucky drama on & off the boards, precluded by two weeks of jury duty & my car getting broken into, which all happened right after I got back from Seattle. It's been almost two months of downer little bummers followed by the crushing blow of the whole shitty ordeal with my poor grandpa and the depressing aftermath, so I was entirely ready for some official closure and a little good, clean fun. Predictably, the actual fact of the funeral was pretty cathartic, and spending time with people who haven't had to tolerate me through all this was really buoying. I'm feeling energized for the first time in a long time.

Sunday was mostly sleeping on the plane and crammed sideways into airport chairs on the 4-hour weather layover, but I also got in a little Jason time, as well as a mini philosophy primer from his friend with the crazy hair that makes you want to scratch his head (I politely asked permission, but then thought better of it, as I'm trying to work against my impulse to be too intrusive with the touching and the prying questions). I can't decide if philosophy is interesting or silly stoner nonsense. Maybe I should read some for myself first.

Today was supposed to mark the start of a fun-filled week of laughing and playing and goo-goo eyes and movies and dirty sex, but thanks to overbooked flights, Fun Dirty Sex Week won't kick off until tomorrow. Instead I'm painting the ceiling so I can finally hang my Buffy figures back up. I'm trying not to let the disappointment make me all sulky and peevish again. After all, it's just one extra day, right?

06.11.04