Oh, so much goes on and so little time to write!

Honestly, folks, since we last spoke, so much has happened!  I quit my job!  Then I asked for it back!  My last remaining Aunt died and some of us siblings spent 19 out of 36 hours driving to Lost Angeles, sleeping a little, going to the funeral (and why is "fun" the first part of that word?) and hopping back in the car and driving home. I slept overnight in a hotel, something I usually love!  I applied for an apartment in a huge apartment complex and was told I didn't make enough money to qualify for the rent!  I read some books and watched some TV and just tonight made an exceptional dinner!  Oh, so many things.

And yet it seems there is little to tell.  Why is that?  With all this crazy stuff whirling around me like snow in a perverse snow globe, why does none of it seem worth reporting?  Probably because none of it is worth reporting.  It's just life stuff moving on, the course of the river of crap winding its way down the long canyon of life.  (Oh, that is so poetic. NOT.) 

I must say that I, like most transplants, forgot what Los Angeles commute traffic is like from 3:00 to about 6:00 in the evening.  It is like sludge.  It is like a backed up bowel. It is that unpleasant. It took us 3 hours to drive what the next day, at non-commute time, took 45 minutes.  We tried not to curse too often because then the cursing holds no power, no release, no relevance.  We sighed a lot.  We wished we had cold beer in the car and we almost pulled off and bought some because in L.A. there is a liquor store at every freeway exit, just waiting for the commuters who have HAD ENOUGH and want some medication for the rest of the slog home. But we were afraid of wasting the ten minutes it would take to get that alcohol for fear that we would be even farther behind in that long, long line of really, really slow cars inching their way to..... somewhere.  We weren't sure about where that where was because we, thankfully, didn't live there and thus did not have to drive that ass-clenching commute every day.  We did wonder out loud, many times, why there weren't more suicides in cars on those freeways every single day.

Oh, but really, that's nothing to report because it happens every day.  Just, thankfully, not to us.

The non-fun funeral was OK, it was what my Aunt wanted, I suppose.  A whole lot of Catholic stuff, the Rosary (53 Hail Marys, that's a lot, and many other prayers, too) and a Mass and a thing where you now are supposed to raise up your right hand to send the prayers to the God person.  What's with that?  He/She is all powerful and omnipotent and yet needs our hands raised to get those prayers to wherever he/she is?  Needless to say, I did not raise my hand. Neither did my brother Steve.  Since we were near the front of the church, I don't know if everyone else in the church helped those prayers fly upward or not but I hope they didn't. Why should we mortals, we little ants on earth, have to help in one more way to let God off the hook?  Don't we already do enough, trying to save the world he/she supposedly created, trying to end things like starvation and gross poverty and obscene war, the threat of weapons of mass destruction, rampant viruses that have no cure, genocide over and over, all the things that he/she can't bother to intercede in?  We now need to wave our right hands to get those prayers up there?  Is he/she even watching or helping at all?  I think not. If someone was trying to help, I am sure they would give us a sign.  No signs have we seen.

But I digress. The point of funerals (like weddings) is to reconnect with long-lost family.  Sometimes we have "lost" those family members intentionally but we forget that until we see them again at the aforementioned funeral or wedding and that realization hits us like a slap from a wet towel:  "oh, yes, that's why I have avoided these people and ceremonies for 15 years."  So it was an uneven day.  Good in some ways and odd in others (and I will get back to you on that tomorrow) and then we jumped back in the car and hit Interstate 5 and headed home. 

In the car with me were my brother Steve and my sister Kate. I realized quite quickly that our habits in the car are quite different,  especially our eating on the road.  Not to be too judgemental here, but to me, stopping to get food should require no more than a ten minute delay in one's journey unless one sits down at Denny's and gets waited on. It is never appropriate to wait more than 30 minutes for "fast food", no matter how great it is.  But we did!  Steve has a minor addiction to In-n-Out burgers so we waited 30 minutes for the food, then another ten to eat it. Now, I like I-O burgers better than any other burger joints but when you are driving, you NEVER spend that much time waiting for food.  Seriously, Denny's sucks but Denny's gives you whatever you want in less than ten minutes.  And their eggs and bacon are fine. Hey, breakfast 24 hours a day, just saying.

OK, I have reported enough for one night. I am tired just reliving it, you must be bored by now.  I will continue tomorrow. There is so much more to say.  So little time.

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