The Usual Three
29 June 2001
The usual three, of course, are the good, the bad, and the ugly. And I'll begin with the ugly.
Michelle (not the ugly) and Timprov (also not the ugly, never mind what he'll tell you) and I went to the mall. Your ugly alarm should have gone off on that last word. Why are clothing designers and buyers the most misanthropic beings on the face of the earth? Oh, why? And why do they not recognize that many women have more curve than your average twelve-year-old boy? And why do they make so many things Michelle likes in yellow? And why do they make everything with those stupid spaghetti straps, guaranteeing that I will be unable to wear it without grave danger of injuring my back still more seriously? Why why why?
So Michelle got a T-shirt. Timprov got seven T-shirts and a pair of shoes. (Timprov needed clothes just a bit.) And I got garbage bags. Hey. We were running out of garbage bags.
The saga continues today, when I'm taking Michelle to the sari shops around here. She wants one, she thinks, but she may pass if it looks too funny on her. Some bodies are not made for saris. (Mine, for example.) Some are gorgeous in them. We shall see.
Okay, so now the bad:
The minorly bad was La Maison, which lied to us for apparently no reason. Timprov asked for creme fraiche with his order, and they said they didn't have any creme fraiche. Then when he ordered hazelnut gelato for dessert, they put creme fraiche on it. There were other striking omissions and missing items. This is bad enough when it's just us, worse when we bring guests. Frustrating.
The majorly bad. Well. My mom called at around 5:00 (our time). Grandpa had gone in for tests yesterday morning early. By 8:00 in the morning, they knew it was cancer. When Mom was telling me this, I thought, "Why does it matter when they knew?" with the little part of my brain that wasn't freaking out. Mom went on to tell me that it mattered because they'd gotten him in for surgery that morning. When she called, he was alert and they were getting him up to walk around a little bit. They'd removed the entire mass in question and are checking to make sure it hasn't spread into further tissues, but evidently the stuff around the mass looked good. So. We're waiting to see if he's going to need chemo. Mom's going to call this morning or afternoon, and I might get to talk to Grandpa.
Okay, so the good: I already said some of it, that Grandpa was awake and alert and walking and talking last night. And that they could take care of it so fast. Also, Scott went into Games Of Berkeley and got Killing Dr. Lucky. (Am I too much of an SF geek that I was a little disappointed that this had nothing to do with Corrupting Dr. Nice by John Kessel?) It's the chaos before Clue, essentially. It's made by Cheapass Games. These people are majorly cool. Their philosophy is that mostly you don't need a lot of premolded plastic and packaging to play the board games you play. So they sell the rules and whatever cards etc. are totally essential to the game. They tell you what you need as far as dice, markers, or fake money from other people's games or from around your house. So Killing Dr. Lucky cost Scott $6. And it was fun to play. I think that's pretty darn cool.
There were also just some good moments hanging out with the people I love. Harder to describe. More satisfying.
I'm going to try to relax and not worry now. I'm not good at that under the best of circumstances, but I'm going to try. I'm also going to try to be distracted. We'll see how well that works, too. Call your grandparents if you've got 'em.
And the main page.
Or the last entry.
Or the next one.
Or even send me email.