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.

Spring, etc.

We’ve had the computer pretty well tied up with work, so even though I had jotted down a bit here and there to post, I haven’t had much chance to do it. And when I finally did, it wasn’t relevant anymore. *sigh* The life of a blogger.

Spring limped in over the weekend, giving us enough sunshine to warm up the house a bit—just enough to take off my sweater and open a few windows, anyhow. But my suspicions that Winter had just gone off for a quick nap might actually prove to be correct. The temps dropped down again Monday (John thought it was close to freezing when he walked Hannah to school at 7:30), and it started raining yesterday, but not too heavily. A friend said he heard we might get another snow. Heaven forefend! I’ll take the cold rain, thankyouverymuch.

But there are other signs of Spring that give me hope, like the lengthening days; it’s easier to get out of bed at 6:45 when it’s already getting light out. And the *craziness*. Have you ever seen someone chug 4 espressos? That’s me, minus the espresso. It’s kind of hard to stay on task when you’re channeling Cornholio.

Last night we watched Super Size Me. I am never going to McD again. Ever. It’s embarrassing to admit, but I had actually been there yesterday morning. Fried apple pies are my secret shame—that’s right! They still *fry* them babies here in Europe. Ka-ching!—well, they would be if I went there more than 3 or 4 times a year. John had confessed a side-trip to the Indian take-away when he was in town last week, and I had just missed the bus, so I decided to kill 20 minutes (and unfortunately, all of the skin in my mouth) by partaking of the fried deliciousness. I’m surprised my body didn’t go into shock, seeing how I’ve been in one of my “food is gross” phases lately, and therefore trying to avoid it as much as possible. John bought a metric ton of fruit last weekend, though, so I’ve been having to eat that just to keep it from the fruit flies. But a diet of fruit and fried apple pie just doesn’t work. Anyhow, the point of this paragraph was to say, “Watch Super Size Me.” (The DVD extras were way cool.) It’s like The Jungle for the 21st century.