zoethe: (Default)
Yesterday evening we drove 2 hours each way to attend the memorial service of a woman we had never met. She was the mother of one of our dearest friends, Eric, and we went to be there for him and his wife Kat as they went through one of the toughest things a person must face: losing a parent. We had not initially intended to go down – my nascent understanding of Ohio geography does not extend very far south, and I didn’t realize that Mansfield was within “striking distance.” Then another couple we know called [livejournal.com profile] theferrett and asked him if he wanted to attend, as they were driving down and could give him a ride. He called me in a mild panic – he had never been to a funeral and was terrified of “screwing it up.” I assured him that he would be fine, then hung up feeling sad – I hated to not be there for our friends, but I had class. Before an hour had passed I realized that class had to be a secondary priority for this night, and made arrangements to go along (mostly consisting of racing home to be there on time).

It was the right choice. Kat said she had almost called just to hear Ferrett’s voice and that she needed a hug from me. It meant a lot to them that we were there. And it meant a lot to us, too. Friendship grows deeper when you share more than just the casual, good times. There is bonding in grief.

During the service I heard a lot about a woman who I regret never getting to know. The well-filled church spoke of her connections to the community and how many lives she had touched, as did the baskets full of cards from well-wishers. As the minister said, there was grief, but it was clean grief, grief for a light too soon gone, and not for unresolved issues that had to be buried. Her dying, a 16-month process, had been one that filled those around her with inspiration. She had met the most terrifying challenge of life and met it well.

I’m wrong, actually, when I say that I never met Eric’s mom. I’ve met her through the kindness and wry humor of her son, and I will know it more through the children whom he and Kat seek to adopt. He spoke of the gifts his mother gave him: a love of books, a kindly outlook, a positive attitude. I know that when he holds his babies in his arms he will remember her, when he selects favorite stories to read to them that the echo of her voice, her cadence, her turn of phrase, will color his own reading. He will pass on that legacy of love and laughter to his children, and they to theirs.

And thus will she live on, and the world will be a better place that she was here.
zoethe: (Star Wars)
One of the most upbeat days I’ve had in a long time. I went and watched Buffy at [livejournal.com profile] neorxnawang’s house yesterday evening, where I was fed dinner (thank you, dear, for insisting that I eat something green), and then went home, did a few chores, and was in bed by 10. Actually got a decent night’s sleep – because I took a double dose of painkillers – and was able to get up this morning, get my homework for the day done, pay my bills, fold a load of laundry, and in general take care of myself. By the time I dragged my bags out to the car, I still felt good, felt calm, and felt like I had accomplished something. Usually by mid-day on Wednesday, I’m ready to give up, but I feel like I can get through the rest of this week okay. I still have to finish that damned research assignment, but I think I can get it done tonight.

Amazing the difference that sleep makes.
zoethe: (Default)
I haven't been spending enough time with [livejournal.com profile] neorxnawang recently. He's my best friend, but real life has kept us apart. Tonight helped to make up for that.

We went to dinner at a restaurant where we know the chef- helped the chef out of a difficult patch - and enjoyed a wonderful dinner and visiting with our friend. Then we picked up the QOTO and a friend of hers, who have come for the weekend, from the bus station, then came back and had drinks and threw on the first couple episodes of Angel. It felt great to make that connection again. Just hanging out time is a tough thing to hold onto when you're in law school.

Now off to sleep, so I can get up and study tomorrow. Woo AND hoo.
zoethe: (witch)
When I arrived at work yesterday morning Crista, our departmental assistant*, asked how I was doing. I could barely get out the words, "not well" because I was fighting tears. Crista, being a practical soul, prescribed mocha and fetched me one.

Without that small kindness, I'm not sure I could have made it through the day.

I hurt all day yesterday. I got a lot done at work, but it was in the continual presence of chronic discomfort. By the time I got myself loaded into the car for school, I was back to the edge of tears. The Motrin helped, I guess, but didn't really stave off the pain. I avoided talking to people at school because I knew that the question How are you doing? would set off the waterworks again. Got through Torts, moved on to Civ Pro, where the prof pointed out that our first written assignment is due Monday. Tears threatened again. Survived that, got home. Another one bites the dust.

I am irritated with myself for not getting better, but the reality is that I have no energy left for recovery, and that's slowing the pace. I guess the measure of progress is going to be how late into the week I can get before falling apart. Only Tuesday this week, maybe Wednesday next. I feel tumbled and ragged, like a frayed bit of cloth on the side of a highway, crushed.

Got about 4 hours of sleep last night, with the discomfort and the waking. Back to work now. Much homework, as always.

*What's the difference between a departmental assistant and a secretary? About $7,000 a year.
zoethe: (angel)
Regretfully, I am too 'net lame to have an website and therefore cannot post the pictures. I will leave that to theferrett to provide when he has the time. The party did not rise to the level of "exciting." We played some games, had a costume contest(won by the one-year-old daughter of one of the participants who a pefect "Boo" from Monsters, Inc.--I'm sure she would have been equally adorable in the Boo Monster costume her mother had made, but Caroline was having nothing to do with that thing--and a woman in a squirrel costume carrying around a "will work for acorns" sign). We had a WarpedCorps monthly meeting. Most WarpedCorps monthly meetings consist largely of determining where and when to have the next WarpedCorps monthly meeting. That and announcing when the next flurry of scifi and fantasy films are coming out and voting - once again - to go as a group, generally at a location and time impossible for us to attend, but hey, we're newbies so we try to respect that there are traditions. Then we visited and played some games and I tried to breathe in the bustier and finally changed into a t-shirt generously offered by one of the other warpies there.

The whole thing was held at the rec room of the apartment complex in which some of the members live. It was held there as a compromise. Our friends Kat and Eric had offered to host at their lovely home, and Kat was going to make a punch that had some alcohol in it, a special "Halloween Spirit." Since the charter of the group says no alcohol at group events, we were going to get around this by setting the time of the meeting early and calling the rest of the evening Kat and Eric's Halloween party.

One member threw a fit. She didn't like being around alcohol, wouldn't come if we had alcohol, and thought it was unfair to put any outside guests who might be invited into a situation where they might be made uncomfortable by alcohol. She was adamant, angry and insulting, and the ensuing argument led not only to the party not having alcohol, but also to it not being at Kat and Eric's. Freed from the social host duties, they went to Disneyworld.

Next, a balloon sculptor in the group decided to make a giant Frankenstein with which to decorate the room. Our alcohol-hating friend panicked. She has a terrible balloon phobia. The popping of balloons terrifies her and she couldn't relax and have a good time knowing that at any minute one could pop. It would be just too much of a strain.

The balloons were scratched. But in a quiet, non-popping sort of way. No other decorative balloons were used to liven up the space. Everything was done to accomodate this woman.

She didn't show up.

To say that a few people were pissed would be to understate generously. The woman has a history of strange power trips, and the one time I have spent an evening in her presence I was reminded of the wicked princess who ends up having hoptoads and lizards spill from her lips every time she speaks. Every word she spoke was venomous. (Then she wanted to tell my fortune. I so don't think so.)

So the next time plans are begun to which she objects, I am going to suggest that she shut the fuck up. I don't think people will hold it against me.
zoethe: (Default)
Man, I haven't wandered by here in a while. Much has happened in life, most of it good, but I can't recapture, only summarize.

Amy is here, and I wish I could keep her here permanently. Law school and fulltime work is gonna make it too hard to raise a 5th grader, though, so for this school year she is back with dad.

We've finally gotten a good group of friends and I think I'm moving toward being in at least a loosely-organized coven, which should be very good.

Law school is looming, and I am starting to freak a bit--I'm getting a LIFE, now, do I really want to not have one for the next four years? But I know that in the end I will be sad if I don't do it, so I'm buckling down.

I have enough work that *I* need an assistant, and it's not promising to get any easier.

Enough of this for now. I'm enjoying a long holiday weekend, mildly drunk do not want to go to bed but don't know what else to do, and just generally restless.

Grr.
zoethe: (Default)
I have recently made friends
with a woman who has been a practicing witch for a
number of years, She is incredibly intelligent, knows
a staggering amount of mythology and craft, and has an
aura of graciousness and generousity. She was with the
group of friends with whom we went to the
scifi/fantasy conference. We wre walking around in
the dealer's hall and I was looking at a chalice there
that I liked but that wasn't speaking to me enough for
me to drag out my wallet and cough up $55.00. I told
her that at this point I am using a plastic goblet
that until I find something that speaks to me.

Yesterday evening she and her fiance came over. She
reached into her bag and handed me a small chalice.
She explained that it was the chalice that she had
used initially and replaced just a couple years ago
when she had found her the chalice that spoke to her,
and that she wanted me to have it until I found one
that spoke to me. Since we have only known each other
for a few weeks, I was incredibly touched. I am still
smiling.

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