Iambic blogometer

The grief report, since all of y'all encouraged me to spill: I made it til 11 a.m. without crying, a major improvement.

Last night my sister's memorial service took place back in Illinois from 6-8 p.m. Just at sunset, a little Cheshire-cat-smile moon showed in the sky with venus shining brilliantly right next to it: a rarity. Haven't grieving people always looked to signs in the heavens for comfort? I suppose we do it because that is all we can think to do.

*******

My sister's flickr set. I didn't even know she had added me as a contact, somehow, and today I miraculously found these few photos that say so much to me. I love the blurry one - it is just perfect.

*******

The bad news is that my hair is in mourning, too. A slight misunderstanding about just how dark "Medium Brown" home hair dye is and a timing problem due to the effects of an engrossing novel have left me with a color of hair that would do Imelda Marcos proud. A nice, glossy almost-black.

Fortunately it is semi-permanent dye, though. Clairol claims the color lasts for 28 washes. Let's see...if I wash it 3 times today, and twice on weekdays...

*******

I awoke last night with these words from my last post in my head:

A certain blogger - Vicious Rumours - went way out of her way for me. She took it upon herself to help me out and came through in a big way.

I thought "Damn, the rhythm of those sentences are all messed up. I should get up and rewrite them."

Do you do this? Write by rhythm? I don't know how it works, exactly, or what the rhythm IS, but it drives me nuts if it is wrong. I am more conscious of it in my paid writing than on my blogs, which are more conversational.

Tell me I'm not crazy. Does this make sense to you?

Dollar Rent A Car makes good

Ok, ok, maybe Dollar Rent A Car doesn't entirely suck so bad.

A certain blogger - Vicious Rumours - went way out of her way for me. She took it upon herself to help me out and came through in a big way.

Using her amazing superpowers, she tracked down a real, live, actual human instead of the seeming robots in human clothing that I had spoken to. She got them to contact me and suddenly I received an offer of a voucher for a rental in the amount that I didn't spend with them because I was busy having a nervous breakdown.

Here's how it went down: I got a couple very nice emails from one of their representatives, who not only had the good sense to compliment my writing but to offer her condolences about my sister.

I first told her that I didn't want any compensation other than to know that no one would have to suffer the same sort of worry and panic I had at the airport, or put up with the runaround I got on the phone.

But then she offered the voucher and I realized 1) I am going to be in Chicago for BlogHer and will need a car to go out to the 'burbs to see my fam and 2) I am a total sucka for saving money, so I took her up on her offer.

I did warn her, though, that hundreds of women bloggers would be descending upon Chicago for BlogHer the last weekend in July and that those losers at Dollar at O'Hare had better treat us nice. So when they have the red carpet out and fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies for us, you know who to thank.

Things to be thankful for

I know this grieving thing is going to get a little old. Having a blog is a good place to flog my feelings, but public grief gets embarrassing for everyone.

I am reminded of how I am always appalled at those cars that have the "In memoriam" type on the back window -- "Hey, look at me! I know someone who died! Pay attention to me!"

I think that after today I am going to try and write about other randomness instead.

But I think we can all take this opportunity to be thankful I haven't hopped on the Twitter bandwagon, which would just make it all so much more TMI-ish:

6:04 am Crying in the shower
7:40 am Complaining to co-worker about how tired I am
9:07 am Reading obituary for the first time; crying
12:14 pm Uncomfortable silence at lunch with co-workers
2:38 Rueful laughter, more crying, blaming cruel universe

And so on. At this point, hearing someone Twitter about big poopy diapers actually begins to sound attractive.

What do YOU think about Twitter? Worth it, or stupid?

Ok, that's it. Taking off the crepe. My sis would approve. Onward.

Work work

I'm financing BlogHer by covering graduation ceremonies for the local newspaper. Tonight is my first of six.

Do you think anyone will notice if I write one article and re-use it over and over with just the school names and colors search-and-replaced?

Didn't think so. (JOKING!! But after about graduation 3, I may be tempted to change my mind).

A little help

Can anyone out there use the awesome power of the Internets to find me a copy of Jack Gilbert's poem "A Description of Happiness in Copenhagen"?

I have been google-stalking my sister. What a weird occupation, chasing after traces that someone has left on the internet to survive them. I guess it is like when people smell their departed ones' shirts for leftover scents. It may not be much, but it is what I have.

Anyway, she mentioned that that poem was something that was keeping her alive. I would love to get a copy.

*******
I have always been a lazy sumbitch but I am now setting new records for personal non-accomplishment. I feel quite proud that I made pasta WITH sauce AND a vegetable for dinner. That is about as good as it gets, however. Those cauliflower bits on the floor...eh. Makeup? Who needs it? Groceries? The milk doesn't smell THAT bad yet.
*******

Thanks for all the condolences. Eden of Fussy could use some, too. Her dad just died. She doesn't have comments open but her email is fussy AT fussy DOT org.

What a sad and beautiful world.