{{Fay}}

The crying can be as much for the realization of the loss of a layer of family. I had a weird spell when I realized that I was part of the oldest generation of living people of my family. I'm going to be that great-aunt (or later) that the descendants say, "Huh, Aunt Connie died, we should go to her funeral."

It's sort of like ablative armor against fate, all the layers are removed until you're the one directly facing the universe. I take comfort that my middle sister has well supplied the future with descendants.

Sympathy for the loss of others who felt things for Grandma is also a source of tears.

In any case, weird feelings at a time like this are required. Many trans-continental snuggles.

{{{{{ Fay }}}}}

unintentional serial:

The local PBS did a little video piece on our current theater, as we get ready to move to the new theater: [link] Click on the "Think May 8, 2009" video. Scroll ahead 17 minutes into the show, which starts the little thing on us. Believe it or not, there is a VERY brief cameo of moi at about 17:50 on the right side in a red shirt, not facing the camera.

IOworkN, it seems someone from outside the organization is saying I'm talking to the stagehand union about making the new theater a union house, or some such. Which would be the death rattle (financially) for this organization. Thankfully my boss, and the boss boss know me, and are like "that's not BC, he's a team player". Kinda freaky.

Jesus fuck, sneezing REALLY HURTS.

Jesus fuck, sneezing REALLY HURTS.

Rattles your empty sockets, huh?

Might want to put that snuff box aside for a bit.

It's really just the one that's still very sore, but damn.

((((Fay and family))))

Oh, dear. I just came THIIIIIIIIIIIS close to addressing an email to the very very senior Professor Moron. Whose name is actually Morton.

Spell check said it was okay and everything.

(((Fay))))

{{{{Fay}}}}