Wow, no wonder they’re fighting at Casa Baugher. In my fantasies, Britt has told her to get the fuck over herself for five fucking minutes.
I won’t even cut-and-paste the stupid psalm she is quoting all over Twitter. What a maroon. What’s interesting is this, however: She has to be in San Francisco by the end of next week for something she really, really wants to do for all sorts of JellyD-related, fame-junkie reasons. If Granny holds on, it will be fascinating to see if she’ll actually bail on the mindless, insignificant event or go anyway, regardless of her family situation.
Of course, she’s spewing all sorts of melodrama on her new blog, aka her Facebook page. The peasants from the -stans “like” these posts, after all!
For the last three days, I’ve been back home (unexpectedly) in Chicago with my family, because my beloved Grandmother is in the hospital.
She lived just two miles from me, so I grew up seeing her several times a week. She took me to ballet lessons and picked me up from high school and played tennis with me (even though I stunk). She knew every single one of my boyfriends. She took me to pick out my very first prom dress … a cherry red Jessica McClintock (oh, midwest, oh 1996). I could fill pages with her words and advice. I have one of her aphorisms tattooed on my left wrist: Let It Unfold.
None of this does her justice. I can’t even put it into words yet. I have never been faced with losing someone who meant this much to me.
Today she couldn’t talk very much, so I held her hand and played her Amazing Grace and Precious Lord on my iPhone. And Bach … lots and lots of Bach.
I don’t know how to process this, or what to think. Or what to do or say or feel. All I know is that it hurts.
And that my life is better for having had her in it.