This is an informational announcement.

My pseudo-gandmother is apparently doing so poorly that she can no longer be left alone. My aunt, uncle, and sisters are heading down to Long Beach this weekend to assess the situation and take care of her. My uncle and sisters will get back on Monday, but my aunt is staying for an indefinate length of time.

What this means to you and me is that, starting next Tuesday, I'm back on Sister Patrol, picking the kids up from school. Only, unlike last time, I'll be staying the night at their house.

So Tuesday night I'll be unavailable, and Thursday as well. Wednesday my Uncle will be off-shift, and Friday as well, but I'll probably need to spend at least next Saturday with them. I have no idea how long this will go on.

This would all, of course, become a thousand times simpler if June would just let them bring her up here, but she's bound and determined not to go into a care facility or leave -- the woman has, in the seventeen years I've known her, left her home only twice.

June makes me nuts. She won't use the oxygen the family bought for her, because "it makes my house look ugly." She won't let them get her an adjustable bed so she can sleep at night (she can't lie down or her air passages get blocked up) because "those things are ugly." Oi!

So, yeah. My social life will be largely nonexistent for the next few weeks. I have no idea how long.

Some quotes I found while browsing LJ, with commentary

I just liked this one:

I listen to the BBC Newshour every morning at 8:00 on Pacifica, Houston's listener sponsored community radio. I like to pretend that I am horribly sophisticated and worldly, but really, I just like to hear the accents.

This one made me cringe, because it's really how I feel, sometimes:

My mother died 7 days before my 16th birthday. We weren't terribly close - but after she died everyone I knew just assumed that we were. I was supposed to go to band camp, but I just didn't feel up to it and I wasn't made go (I didn't want all the fawning and sympathy).

And you're right a lot of time has passed since that date and I'm now older in this flesh life than she was when she died. What I don't get is why that feels strange? There's this niggling thought that keeps attacking me (I don't know what to do about it), that drifts in from time to time (not a lot or often, but enough to be annoying), that perhaps I don't deserve to live longer than she did. Crazy right? I'm not suicidal or anything like that - I love life way too much for that type of attitude or thoughts, but that dumb little thought hits me from time to time.