Happy 300 to me!

According to Blogger, this is my 300th post since starting in October 2004. I know for a fact that John thought I'd never make it this long. *nya nya nya*

But this really is an actual post, with actual content, not just patting myself on the back, so keep reading.

The last couple of weeks have been really odd. The kind of odd that gets you invited to the "Very Jerry Springer Easter Special", if you know what I mean. First, my paternal grandfather proposed to my mother. Marriage. (My folks are divorced.) My dad had moved Grandpa a few months back so he was living closer to him because Grandpa was getting forgetful--stuff like meals and taking his meds; not good. But Grandpa wanted to move back to his own house 4 hours away, and he was lonely, so he popped the question to my mom when she took him some dinner one night. (He didn't always remember that she was his ex-daughter-in-law.)

Grandpa finally talked Dad into moving him back, but before he could talk my mom into joining him, he died. Two days after moving. Of a heart attack.

Some of my family made the comment that at least he was back where he wanted to be, in his own home, but maybe all the stress and excitement of moving was a contributing factor. Who can say?

Then there was the question of what to do with all his stuff. The man was a merchant marine and had 30 years of traveling in which to fill up his house with oddities from all over the world. John couldn't talk me into asking for the African figures and masks carved out of teak?ebony? or the "adult" bar-ware, and I couldn't talk him into the velvet matador painting or the Japanese collage made out of iridescent butterly wings, so I guess we are at an impasse. And under no condition whatsoever do we want the *giant, scary monkey* from the attic. (Picture one of those wind-up monkeys--with or without cymbals--and enlarge it to 3-feet tall. *shudder*) That damn thing gave every child in the family nightmares. Trust me, you do *not* want to wake up in the middle of the night and see it sitting next to the bed.

Bon voyage, Gramps, and happy sailing.