Pillow Book

I made it. I made it all the way to Christmas without getting the blues. I very nearly got fired recently, but that doesn't count because it had absolutely nothing to do with Christmas and everything to do with the fact that everyone has their breaking point and my boss found mine. She not only found my breaking point, but she bitch stomped it with golf cleats. And at that precise moment, the moment when word vomit came up and I told her what I really thought, I knew that it was quite likely going to be my last day as an assistant in a commercial art gallery.

Luckily the owner of my company is pretty understanding. So a slap on the wrist later, I still have my job. My boss didn't speak to me for a week, but you'll never hear me complain about that.

I hope everyone is having as good a holiday as I am having so far.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 10:29 PM | Permalink

My Father apologized on Thanksgiving. And I forgave him. I don’t hate my dad I just hate the way he deals with his frustration. Plus, my mom made hashbrown casserole, which is my most favorite casserole ever. So you could see where I would be less inclined to let a little thing like my Dad’s misdirected anger get between me and Thanksgiving dinner.

The week before last, my Dad called me and he couldn’t say a word. Instantly I knew. “Just say it.” I told him. My grandmother had passed. It seems Death felt jilted when the stroke didn’t take her so he gave her a heart attack. I don’t mean to sound insensitive it’s just that my crazy grandmother’s mental illness (paranoia) made it hard to really know her as a person and be as close to her as a granddaughter should be. So dealing with her death has been much easier than I thought it would be.

My crazy grandmother lived to be 85 years old and most of that life was spent taking care of herself and then, after her short marriage, taking care of her two sons. The death of my crazy grandmother inspired my father to look for information about the family on the Internets. We always knew that her father had died when she was only 16. The children were all sent to different relatives. No one ever asked her how her father died.

I haven’t read the article for myself yet, but according to my father an article about my great-grandfather’s death does exist. In said article, it states that my great-grandmother shot and killed my great-grandfather for some unknown reason and goes on to say that she was indeed acquitted. No wonder my grandmother was crazy.

Posted by Irish Geisha at 11:49 PM | Permalink