little_tristan: (Daffodils)
The big anniversary wasn't as horrible as it could have been. Not by a long shot. There was an added blow at lunch time when the world's greatest Chinese restaurant, which is right up the street, was found to have gone out of business. But I recovered and we ordered barbecue chicken pizza.
Click for new friends and closure )
little_tristan: (Christina's World)
The good news is I sold some books! I gave a box to Cousin Heather to take to a craft/rummage type sale she's doing this weekend where people rent a table and sell whatever they want. But before she could get there, a friend of hers who'd read The Bedlam Boys asked if she could get him more so his book club could read it. He bought the whole box and I had to send another with the boys so she'd have some for the sale. (Their work is close to her house, so she can sneak over there and take things from their truck during the day.:) I doubt she'll sell any more, but it's still pretty cool. And if it's not raining, they want me to come speak at the club meeting. Only in good weather, though, as I won't be able to get into the house. Of course I've no idea what speakers do at these things, so I'd love advice from anyone who has experience. Or just good ideas.

I also think I've finally lost some weight, as today I was able to cross my legs for the first time in about 4 years. That was exciting.:)
Cut for depressing shit that no one wants to read )

Oh, and the boys put up a higher door between the kitchen and dining room so Willow can't even see over it, let alone jump it. The a-n still teases her over the door until she leaps for him, but she can't get to him so he can't complain. And the latch is way easier for me to work.
little_tristan: (Roy Tongue)
Okay, I've been compiling this gradually, a few lines a day, because I've been so lonely since the incident. Somehow I hadn't realized that not being able to type would cut me off so completely from humanity. Except for my cousin, who calls once in a while, and the boys, who spend ten or fifteen minutes a day with me (talking about work). It's been distressing, to say the least.

So what's new? Um, I've switched from Internet Explorer to Firefox for better web browsing. More or less. It has some minor flaws, but nothing like I was getting from IE9. It wasn't just that whole spending six hours trying to upload my book cover (which turned out to be a ten minute job), it also wasn't letting me reply to comments on AO3. And that was sad, because I didn't want people thinking I was ignoring them, but every time I clicked reply, it jumped from the page with the comment I wanted to reply to back to the first page where I could only leave a new comment. And when I tried that, in case it would magically apply it to the right page, I ended up making a new comment on the first chapter of my own fic, and then I couldn't delete it. There was a delete button, but the confirmation button flashed by so fast as to be unclickable. So Firefox solved that. Although it did allow a bunch of ads on my FaceBook page that I've never seen before. I found an add-on for that. I need more add-ons, but there's time. I'll find them.
Sad Mom stuff... )
Kenny Stuff )
Cat and Dog Stuff )
Random Dream and Book Stuff )
Monday Sucked )

Now my biggest irritation is suddenly having a plot bunny and no way to write it.
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Misery)
Yesterday was all about banking. I had to go to three banks--mine, where I set up Mom's estate account, and the two she used where I closed her accounts--but it got all complicated and I ended up making 7 stops altogether. And at one of the banks they were doing construction and had ripped up the entire sidewalk between the curb cut and the door so I couldn't get in. But (this is the best news I have) Bruder was well enough to drive, yet not quite ready to go back to work, so I had a ride. (My new wheelchair came with run down batteries so I can't go more than 10 blocks from home alone. At least not if I want to get back. They're bringing me new batteries next Friday.) Anyway, we ended up conducting business in the parking lot with the teller running back and forth with the paperwork. She was really nice about it, and gave me one of their new account promotional things as a please-don't-sue-us gift. I can't use it myself, but Cousin H will love it.:)
Quite possibly you should all stop reading now )
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Misery)
I thought it would just be me figuring out what papers to collect and where to find them. And then when I met the lawyer, she made it sound pretty cut and dried. Long, but not terribly expensive or torturous. She even came up with some stuff that my sister can spend her share on so the state can't take it. (Apparently she'd have 30 days to get rid of it, and a lot of useful stuff is exempt.) And then I happened to mention, just in passing, that my dad died in the same situation that Sister's in now, with Medicaid and all.

So--it turns out that while there were loopholes to protect Mom when Dad died, she was able to keep the house and such, Medicaid can and will make a claim against her estate now for his debt. So the bank account with the actual money in it, the one with no beneficiary or POD, could very well go to the State without ever pausing to be divided between us. The lawyer says there's a small hope based on the fact that Dad's been gone 14 years and Mom only got the money a year and a half ago--an inheritance from her sister. But she also said that we have to fight it in the county where Mom lived, which is a much harder one to win these things in than our county. When we were on the way home, I remembered that Mom filed bankruptcy in 2006 or '07, so I called her back to ask if that would help. Maybe the State released its claims against her then. She told me to bring everything I could find on the inheritance and the bankruptcy, so I get to do that this afternoon, after I see the accountant about my (and her) taxes.

One thing is sure: I'm not going to feel the least bit bad about collecting my representative fee. I think I'm going to earn it.

Oh, and one more thing. POD means Pay on Death. Pick someone out, go to the bank, and put that name on your account. It doesn't make it joint, they can't spend your money while you're alive, and it can't be attached by that person's creditors. It DOES avoid probate by passing the money directly to the chosen person, and not even your creditors can take it from them. Seriously. It's quick, it's easy, and they'll thank you when you're dead.
little_tristan: (Catloaf mini)
This is the first time I've checked my flist since the early morning of March 21st. I can only get it to go back to the 23rd, so if someone wrote about something cool, posted a video or a fic, or just think I missed out, let me know and I'll check the journals individually. Because I really do want to see all the good stuff, I'm just disorganized. So if you suddenly get comments on posts from two weeks ago, that's why.

Also, belated happy birthday to [ profile] tinx_r! Hope it was a good one!

There's not a whole lot of other news. Death stuff under the cut )

In brighter news, we finally mostly got our house cleaned. Well, part one. M didn't work out (scheduling problems), but Cousin H knows a guy, S, who's a real cleaning machine. I didn't believe it at first, I thought he was joking and just undercutting M's price to lower my expectations. But when we had to hurry to clean up Mom's apartment before her brother got to town, H brought S and his brother and put him to work in the kitchen while the brother hauled garbage and such. He did such an amazing job, it was a little bit scary. So I had him over one day last week and he got about half of it done in 10 hours. And I mean dismantling the stove, washing walls, getting the cobwebs off the vaulted ceiling in the library--just everything. That time permitted. He's coming back tomorrow to brush up a bit and then do the rest. The living room, dining room, my bedroom and bath all need dusting and de-webbing and such. And we had fried chicken the other day, so the stove needs degreasing again. (Real Southern fried chicken is a mess, I tell you what.) It's nice to have people in the house during the day.

There's something wrong with my van, but it still runs. It started to be a problem mid-way through funeral week, but did us the favor of not actually breaking down. We think it needs U joints. So now I need a mechanic.

Friday is tax accountant day, and for some reason I let her schedule the appointment for a time when I don't actually have a ride. Not sure what the thinking there was. She's going to help with Mom's taxes, too. I really can't understand why ordinary poor working people aren't exempt when they die. Does the government think the family needs more to do? I hope she sticks it to them and gets a refund.

Oh, and during the last two weeks, I read a book. Just the one, but it felt like a tremendous accomplishment. More on that later.

*hugs you all*
little_tristan: (No Icon)
I'd always wondered about that, how they differed from regular headaches. But it started Monday morning, after I requested a police welfare check on my mom. First it was just a pain in the base of my neck, and then it traveled up to my skull, and gradually over the top to where it set up camp and began drilling for oil in my left eye socket. I wake up with it every morning now, that stiffness in my neck and the pain in my head, but every day it travels a little more. Yesterday it got around the front to my left collar bone, and today it's setting up another rig to drill in my right eye. I don't have the slightest idea what to do about it. None of my drugs are working. Yesterday I found actual pure morphine in Mom's apartment. I need to do some research first, but I expect I'll be trying that before this is over.

I wonder if the tension would go away if I cried. So far, I haven't done that for more than a minute or two at a time, because I suspect that when I really start, it could last for hours and right now I just don't have the time. Maybe I can schedule it for Sunday.

Sometimes I pause and wonder if I'm having a stroke.

I can't really remember when I last ate. Caffeine helps a little.

My cousin and her friends did a great job cleaning up at Mom's. It was only a little bit awful taking her brother over there. He actually got there first, before I'd even left home, but the manager couldn't let him, because apparently I'm in charge. The legal machine has taken over, and the law, in its infinite bizarreness, puts children ahead of siblings. But he lives far away and can't stay long, so I guess it's just as well. I don't know. Yesterday I signed the cremation order, which had to be initialed in about nine places, and at least 4 of them were to certify that there isn't anyone else with greater authority to sign it. Basically, it was 4 different ways of saying, It's all on you, kid. That was when the headache reached my clavicle. I'm so afraid of fucking up.

I did fuck up, though, because between the cleaning and the funeral home and trying to get her mail from the PO, I never had time to go to my sister's. As it was, I didn't get home until long after Herr went to bed. I was working hard and a lot of important stuff got done, but she needs me and I couldn't be there. I can't be everywhere, and that just sounds so lame. I sent Uncle Harold to visit with her while we cleaned up the worst of the mess (sort of a twofer), but it's not the same. He's not in charge, so he can't tell her what's going to happen. I'm going to try and reach Harold today and see if he'll drive me out there.

There was a message on Mom's answering machine from a woman in Colorado who was apparently a close friend. She sounded worried. I have to call her, but the idea makes my jaw hurt.

When I got home, there were flowers on the porch from the boys' bosses. They were very surprised. Even at their age, they still don't understand death protocol.

The footprint is still on her door.

At least the vomiting has stopped. For now.
little_tristan: (BtVS Spike Misery)
Herr just left for work, after one of the worst weekends we've ever endured together. Over the last few months, he's been degenerating into a fanfic character--one who spins around in an endless panic, not eating or sleeping and living on caffeine and fear. The middle of last week, he started throwing up a lot, whether there was anything in his stomach or not, and he finally collapsed in the factory on Friday. Even then, he wouldn't see a doctor. He's scary that way--the lengths he'll go to to avoid losing control. Instead, he clocked out and slept in the truck until Bruder finished up and brought him home. He slept on the sofa all evening, refused his supper, and for the first time in months, slept through the night.

Ever since, we've been trying to get small bits of food into him, or even water if that's the best we can do, and he's developed a tolerance for my liquid food. (He drinks the high calorie stuff; I stick to the sugar free.) But we couldn't keep him home today. He may be a walking skeleton on whom Victoria's Secret extra small yoga pants hang loose (he wears them for underwear, not having any body fat whatsoever), but he's by-God going to work. The only sign that he's at all sane is that he is planning to spend most of the work-day sleeping in the van. He hasn't decided if he's going to clock in, or tell them he's taking a sick day while being on call for the things only he can do. It's sort of a toss-up between sleeping on their time or working on his. Either way, he gets paid and the work gets done. Unless he collapses again.

You'd think someone that writes these scenarios as often as I do would have some clue as how to handle the situation. But I don't. Actual men are just a whole different story, and I'm not being allowed to dictate the ending.
little_tristan: (Goofball in taped glasses)
I've just learned that one of our little girls was buried today. She was much younger than me, at least 2 camp generations removed, so I never knew her. But she's one of us, and the loss still hurts. Worse in some ways than many of our recent losses, because she didn't get to grow up. As much as we hate to see our friends cut down in their twenties and thirties, we hold to the comforting thought that they got to be adults for a while. Go to college and marry. But the death of a child still in grade school--there is no comfort for that.

Goodnight, sweet Leona. Goodbye and Godspeed.

Spirit Day

Oct. 4th, 2010 09:53 am
little_tristan: (Dandelion Break)
Originally posted by [ profile] neo_prodigy at Spirit Day

It’s been decided. On October 20th, 2010, we will wear purple in honor of the 6 gay boys who committed suicide in recent weeks/months due to homophobic abuse in their homes at at their schools. Purple represents Spirit on the LGBTQ flag and that’s exactly what we’d like all of you to have with you: spirit. Please know that times will get better and that you will meet people who will love you and respect you for who you are, no matter your sexuality. Please wear purple on October 20th. Tell your friends, family, co-workers, neighbors and schools.

RIP Tyler Clementi, Seth Walsh (top)
RIP Justin Aaberg, Raymond Chase (middle)
RIP Asher Brown and Billy Lucas. (bottom)

REBLOG to spread a message of love, unity and peace.

Spirit Day

Oct. 2nd, 2010 07:51 pm
little_tristan: (Sam on a Mission)
Originally posted by [ profile] neo_prodigy at Spirit Day

It’s been decided. On October 20th, 2010, we will wear purple in honor of the 6 gay boys who committed suicide in recent weeks/months due to homophobic abuse in their homes at at their schools. Purple represents Spirit on the LGBTQ flag and that’s exactly what we’d like all of you to have with you: spirit. Please know that times will get better and that you will meet people who will love you and respect you for who you are, no matter your sexuality. Please wear purple on October 20th. Tell your friends, family, co-workers, neighbors and schools.

RIP Tyler Clementi, Seth Walsh (top)
RIP Justin Aaberg, Raymond Chase (middle)
RIP Asher Brown and Billy Lucas. (bottom)

REBLOG to spread a message of love, unity and peace.

little_tristan: (knowing)
I have a weird hobby, relatively speaking. I collect things that I find in books. I have a scrapbook full of letters from the 60s, receipts from bookstores, and airline ticket stubs from all over the world. (My copy of Angela's Ashes was actually carried on a flight from London to Dublin. No clue how it got here.) Most of these items come from books that I get at second hand shops or yard sales, and by the time I find the thing, there's no way to return it if I wanted to.

But right now I'm reading a library book, and I just found a photo negative in it. It appears to be from a panoramic camera, because no one could line up 5 frames that perfectly, and the picture is a group of elderly people getting into a car in front of someone's house. Like maybe seeing Grandma and Grandpa off after a family event. And because it's the negative, the owner might have been taking it to get copies. Maybe Gran and Pop Pop are no longer with them. Maybe it was their last family get together, ever.

Uh-huh. So I was going to ask for advice on whether I should keep it for the sake of the collection or try to get it back home, and in writing this, I've answered the question. It's from the head library, the one that runs the system, and they'll have no trouble contacting the last person to check out the book.

I now return you to your regularly scheduled flist.

SPN Meme

May. 14th, 2010 07:50 am
little_tristan: (sam spoon)
When you see this message, post in your journal with your favorite Season 5 SPN quote.

Since the finale has aired, I can use a new quote:

"Hey, assbutt!"
little_tristan: (No Icon)
Camp was too much fun to compare to war, but I always drew that analogy anyway, because there isn't really a word for what we were. For what those of us who remain still are. Something between a pawn and a civilian, living in a country that doesn't know it's at war and occasionally stepping in to participate in a battle we can't win, or even begin to fight. But when they ask us to, we try. We turn ourselves in for inspection, testing, the odd experimental drug, and then we go back to our homes on that nameless battlefield, in that middle of that unknown war, and we wait.

We stayed in touch, many of us, after we outgrew camp and they sent us off on our own. And we miss it. For most of us it was the only time we ever saw our fellow soldiers. The only contact we ever had with anyone who even knew we were at war. It was our base, our supply depot, and the only home we really wanted to return to, year after year. We felt strong enough to fight when we were together. Then we grew up and they made us fight alone.

But for Richie, the fight is over. And now there is one less person in the world who remembers the life we had in the midst of death. Trent in the fishpond, the frog in Matt's Mini-Wheats, The Great Castleton, Cory's leather jacket, Todd in a grass skirt... But we'll keep fighting, my brother. And when we lose, as we are bound to, we'll see you on the other side.

Goodbye Richie. Godspeed.
little_tristan: (Denis Doyle WTF)
I have that feeling again that something is missing or out of place, or maybe just--wrong. It's sunny, but it's raining. Doc, the Border Collie, has a divot in her nose, like she's growing a third nostril above and between the other two. It's not even an open wound. It's more like what you get when you poke a dull pencil into a wad of Play Dough. So, I don't know what's up with that. My book is boring, but it's Neil Gaiman, so it shouldn't be boring, which makes me think it's just me.

The Boondock Saints sequel really sucked. It's only purpose in the universe is to remind people what was good about the original, because all of those good things are absent. The crispness and clarity of the plot is replaced with random pseudo-mysteries, the witty dialog is abandoned in favor of half-formed gay jokes, as if Troy Duffy became aware of the fanfic and wanted to make a crude and incoherent statement against it, and while I'm all in favor of strong women in positions of power, this FBI babe is not one. Five inch heels, an overbearing Southern drawl, and a bitchy condescending attitude toward absolutely everyone reduced her to the level of token hot chick there because someone realized that they hadn't had a woman in the first one. And I have to say, if this is all she's good for, I'm glad. If you can't write a decent female character, do us a favor and don't try. And they managed to kill 2 characters that we developed a relationship with in the first movie, without eliciting any emotion whatsoever. I wanted to care, I really did, but it just wasn't there. There was nothing there, and this time I'm pretty sure it wasn't just me.

And now Cory Haim is dead and I can't stop thinking about how much I loved him 20 years ago. I'd kind of forgotten about him over the years, but I liked knowing he was out there, and I still watch his movies from back then. License to Drive is easily my favorite. I'm getting it from Netflix tomorrow. Maybe things won't seem so out of order then.
little_tristan: (Sentinel and Guide)
Watching your heart stop was the hardest thing I've ever done. But I'm so glad I was with you at the end, as you were with me at the beginning. I miss you so much. I always will.

little_tristan: (Kitten Hugs)
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Valentines is easily my least favorite of the lame-ass made up holidays.  It was always a time for snubbing and rejection in school--in the lower grades we were required to bring cards for everyone in the class and the teachers always handed out copies of the roll list so no one would be forgotten, and I still got maybe 5 cards in a class of 25.  In high school, kids bought flowers and candy which were delivered by volunteer cupids during class, and they always went to the same few kids.  20 or 30 students carried bunches of roses all day and laughed at those who had none.  It was like the administration had sat down and worked out over a long weekend how to publicly humiliate the greatest number of people at once.  And, in 1997 when all that was long behind me, it was on Valentine's Day that we turned off my daddy's life support and ended his suffering for good.  Making it officially the worst day in my calendar year.

Now that I'm married, Herr Tanzer tries to ease the misery a bit with Lindor truffles and mylar balloons, and it actually does help.  But I'd love it if the TV commercials just went away and left me in peace.  Hearing the phrase fifty times a day for a month does nothing at all to improve my persistent January mood.


little_tristan: (Default)

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