Category: Uncategorised

I’m answering all of the condolence email I got. Well, at least most of it. If you are expecting an answer and don’t receive one, here you go:
Thank you for your email. It means a lot to me.
I hope you are doing well
— celeste
Just because it’s a form letter doesn’t mean that your email didn’t mean a lot to me. It’s all true.
I hardly slept last night. I was worried about oversleeping, so instead I didn’t sleep at all. I was eating breakfast when I relaized that it was a friday morning and I had only allocated one hour to reach Cupertino from Berkeley by 10:00 am. What’s worse is the carpool lane closes at 10:00. I encouraged the Dentons to hurry. Maybe they did. We left after 9:00. There was a coffee truck overturned on 880. We got to the church at 10:20-something. I was suppossed to be there by 10:10 to be a pallbearer. And Christi took the guest registry-type book home with her to repair a page, so people were signing a photocopied sheet. Most everyone had arrived by the time we put the book in place.
We pulled the casket from the hearst and placed it on a trolley thing, wheeled it to the church vestebule and then places a white sheep called a pall over the top of it. Then we wheeled it inside and sat in the front of church and cried for the whole mass. The cantor sang in te slow pseudo-operatic, wild vibrato style popular among catholic cantors. I was upset with him, but the music selection was good. The organist and I had talked on the phone the night before going back and forth about the music. Most catholic music is not good. But we narrowed it down to Taize. S/he’s so good, even protestants use it. Andway, I thought it was good when he sang Ave Maria. But throughout most of the mass, I felt a wild desire to stab him. Christi’s boss told me later he thought the cantor was good, so I finally decided that I was just unhappy and so disliking the cantor, but it wasn’t his fault.
Monsegnour Milani’s sermon talked about mom in vague terms from the notes he had taken from us. He did know my mom from when she lived at home with her parents and he was their pastor. The readings were from the book of wisdom, psalm 23, a letter of Saint Paul to somebody and the beatitudes. At the end, Marilyn Quentin, mom’s friend got and spoke about taking piano classes with her at DeAnza Community College and being a docent with her at the museum and about how they used to talk for hours and hours. I was glad she spoke. After the mass, we processed out and then milled around for a while, waiting for the Monsegnour. Shyam Nigrani’s wife was there. He was my dad’s old coworker and I was friends with their daughter. Also, Autumn, who I worked with at Netscape was there. I need to call both of these people. Beatrice came again. Margie came. Tiffany, Luoi, GI Jen, Brian and Sarah K, Vince and Tammy and Sarah D all came too. There was a good crowd. A bunch of Chuck’s friends were there. Many of them read the newspaper announcement, because apparently Chuck didn’t tell everyone that he should have. Mary Lou came, as did Hubback. Charles, Christi’s boss came. The Bonasiches came. They run the orchard in Hollister. The Vidiviches came. All the CGC people. That’s the singles club my parents met at. It’s called the Catholic Graduates Club. For Catholics who were out of college, which seems to have meant thirty-something. My dad was still in school when her joined, but he was a resuming student. Anyway, the register thingee plus the photocopied sheet gives us a list.
The fake cops started up their motorbikes and blocked traffic and we got on 280 and went to Gate of Heaven Cemetery in a auto-procession. Apparently, one of the fake cops was almost run over. They looked just like real cops in CHP look-alike uniforms and with look-alike bikes, flashing amber lights instead of blue and red. I think people were fooled. One of them successfully pulled over a semi-truck. There was a short ceremony at the grave site and then another rodent-like mortuary employee thanked everyone for coming and we went to my dad’s house.
Alottas Catering did the food. They catered my mom’s parents’ funerals too. My dad called me a few days ago and asked about vegan food. I told his to just have some salads and maybe a three-bean salad and the vegans would be fine. And then maybe he could get a lasagna too. So when I arrived, there was a lettuce salad, a fruit salad, a three bean salad and a meat lasagna. I can’t say my dad doesn’t listen to me. Brother bob brought a million desserts, including his great pear tortes. Tammy or Sarah D or somebody brought a quiche. Someone else brought a plat full of cake slices. There was a lot of food. And red and white wine.
I talked to a bunch of people, I think. I sort of floated through it. Near the end, Margaret Schieck, my godmother, pulled me into a another room and said that while my mom was sick and could still talk, she asked Margaret to look after me and she promised she would. And she said she wanted me to consider myself part of her family if I want and Christi too and her kids know about me and Christi and everyone is ok about it and even if my mom hadn’t said anything to her, she wtill would have wanted me in her family because she’s known me her whole life and she’s my god mother. I just kind of cried. Christi has been asking me all day what we talked about and I can’t speak it because it makes me cry too much, but i can type it. So now all my blog readers (both of you) know now. The whole time my mom was sick, I kept thinking that Margaret was going to have to assume her duties as a godmother soon. I guess she was thinking the same thing. I didn’t know that my mom ever knew she was dying. the time she was still talking was probably when we were still doing radiation treatment. I was annoyed at her negative attitude then, but she must have known better than us. I’m glad she knew. I’m sorry I kept denying that, because I wanted the radiation to help and I wanted her to be more positive about it, because of the mythical mind-body connection.
Christi’s mom took all the male Dentons to the airport. After everyone left, she, Christi and I sat and talked to my dad for a while. Christi and her mom disappeared off to Sarah K’s house. And when my dad fell asleep in his chair, I snuck off after them. We drank tea and then went back and got some desserts and most of the last of my stuff from my dad. Like oreos and a pomegranite and a pumpkin.
We came back to berkeley and Christi talked me into going for sushi. It was miserable. I kept wanting to cry. I didn’t want to go to a restaurant. Tiffany anf Luoi invited us to a party, but I didn’t want to go and we ended up not calling them at all. Apparently they told me that Christi wanted to go and Christi that I wanted to go. But we talked to each other and foiled their plans. I don’t think my mom would like the idea of me going to a party after her funeral one bit.
Margaret told me that I’m a lot like my mom. Not very long ago, that would have annoyed me, but now I know that my mom was kind and funny and humble and always put other people first and smart and a good friend to people and fun to be around. I was barely old enough to start appreciating my mother. Just ten years ago, I still often saw her as a tyrant trying to ruin my social life. I wish I’d had more time as an adult to know her. Today was the hardest day since she died, maybe since she was sick. While she was sick, I had hope or at least chores. Before the funeral, there was logistics or a sence of relief that she wasn’t suffering. But now there’s nothing more to do and she’s gone forever

So after Tiffany left, later Mitch came over. He was talking a lot about Mozilla. I thought it was a religious discussion, but it turned out he’s got some startup idea that’s going to use esperanto. I say, “yay.” We went out to pizza. We came back and Christi’s Mother and Brother arrived. We sat around and talked, then went to bed. (aren’t blogs exciting?)
This morning I woke up and Tiffany was back here. yay. I thanked her for doing my half of the chores. Then she left and the Dentons and I drove to San Jose to get Christi’s Father from the SJ Airport. We went to my dad’s house to change. It’s full of flowers. I haven’t yet collected cards to write thank you notes. My dad showed up, so we went to Kim’s Vietnamese food with him. The organist called my cell phone and I finally gave her the list of hymns. Then we went to the rosary. We only said a decade of the rosary. Monsegnour Milani read a few readings and did a short, vague homily. Then it was over. Bang, bang, done. My mom would have been disappointed. But the crowd was pretty good. Christi made the book thingee. It’s beautiful. It’s covered with handmade (not by her) paper with rosebuds embedded in it. A lot of people came. The first guy I talked to was upset that we had communicated insufficieantly with him and was mad about it. And then some other guy came by and complained at my dad for being insufficiently sociable. Um yeah. Next time she dies, we’ll handle it better. The criticizm was very mild, but when you’re already fighting back tears, it stings more than normal.
A certain gentleman who is socially awkward came over to say goodbye. I thanked him for coming, so he said, “well thank you for being born.” I replied, “anytime.” Brother Bob guffawed. It was the only comic moment. In case I haven’t been clear on this, my mom dying sucks. My mom always liked the unnamed gentleman. She was always willing to overlook people’s foibles. She would give anybody on earth a second chance. Unless someone hurt someone she cared about. Then she never forgave, ever.
My mother’s mother died nine years ago. While she was ill, before her death, she had a nurse named Beatrice. Beatrice read about my mom in the paper and showed up to her rosary. She said my mom was always her friend. So if you helped someone my mom cared about, she didn’t forget you then either.
after the mortuary asked us to leave so they could close up, we went to La Teejo de Lusi. We stayed forty minutes past closing, but they never asked us to leave. I think we made tea orders after they closed, and they filled them without saying anything. Only Sarah K clued us in to their closing. They’re much nicer than the mortuary. It’s too bad they don’t do wakes there. The mortician at the rosary looked like he has the ability to turn into a bat. But the mortuary chapel has a huge crucifix, so he must not actually be a vampire. Anyway, we were at Lucy’s with the Dentons, the Sarahs, Mitch, Vince and Tammy. Vince and Tammy didn’t go to the rosary because Vince’s mom told them that Vince’s dad needed an emergency angioplasty and was at death’s door, but apparently, she overstated the crisis. I’m glad he’s ok.
We came home and did trash night things. I lit candle number three. The BVM and John the Baptist already burned out, but they were pretty low when they came here. Aside from the BVM (it seemed right to start with her), all of the remaining candles are ordered by amount of wax left, so all things being equal, they should burn longer and longer with each candle. And I fixed the heater. The fan had been failing to come on when the heater got hot, so instead of being like a regular, mordern heater, it was more like a radiator and utterly innefective at dispersing heat over our upstairs, which has very high ceilings. anyway, I opened the heater cover and switched a button marked “fan” to to “on.” I’m leading people to beleive that it was actually a technical repair, so keep this quiet.
It’s so weird having family gatherings without my mom. It’s not right at all

Tiffany left wednessday afternoon. Christi’s mom and brother were set to arrive, so she absconded. First, she made the bunk bed. It take 13 more minutes than making a bed ought to take. this is frustrating. tiffany also helped Christi clean and I’m pretty sure she put away all the vegitables. A few days ago, she made cream of cauliflower soup. yesturday, she bought oatmeal and coffee for the house and baked oatmeal cookies. she’s been maintaining the garden. I was thinking I missed her and I then I was thinking how much work she’s been doing around here. I must remember to say thank you.

Shelia detailed out her plan to me. It’s genious boggled my mind. “It’s so audacious, it just might work!” I exclaimed.
she just smiled her enigmatic smile and handed me another dossier. “This is the authoritative document on our adversary, published by the justice department. some of it is even correct.”
I scanned it. “Ah, so he or she is named JK and was a belligerent in Columbia, fighting with the paramilitary. Officially, JK is our ally.”
“Only because we favor an authoritarian regime. You know what JK planned for Flagstaff.”
The dune buggy kept bounding accross the dunes of the barren desert. Suddenly, a shot rang out overhead. My revolver was in my hands in an instant as I looked for the assailant.
“We have you surrounded. Drop your weapons.” A voice came through a megaphone.
“How do I know you have us surrounded?” I challeneged. antoher shot rang out and my pistol was violently torn from my fingers. It had been shot out of my hand! A hidden sniper that skilled is as good as being surrounded. Shelia and I put our hands in the air.
A gentleman in a white suit, reminiscent of Boss Hog, stepped out from behind a dune. “So, Jane,” he said with incongrous benevolence, “we meet again. You’ll have to forgive me. My henchmen didn’t recognize Shelia next to you and so confused you with a Mr Anderson.”
That name again! “So you’re letting us go?” I asked, burning with curiosity.
“Oh no, ” Dr. cool laughed bombastically, “now that you know I’m here, you’ll have to be my prisoner.” He took a look at my jumpsuit. “I can see you’ve already visitted our common adversary across the desert. Too bad we can’t work together on this, but I am comitted to avenging your murder of my father.”
Dr. cool’s henchmen pushed us into a windowless hovercraft and started across the desert. “I’ve always found him to be something of a boor.” said Shelia.
A video screen clicked to life across from us, with Dr. cool’s image on it. “Now that’s no way to talk about your host. Miss Manners might severely berate for your lapse of ettiquite, were she as belligerent as some of my henchmen. some of them are quite testy about what yuou did to dad. and for that you will pay!”
Maniacal bad guys are the most difficult to reason with, but still, I had to try. “That video you saw of me killing your father was bogus! It was fabricated by JK to make you dedicate your life to evil!”
“I can aver that claim.” said Shelia
“It doesn’t matter. I avowed that I would kill you in front of my henchmen and I can’t back down now.” The monitor clicked off and gas jets opened around the room to a hissing sound. A purple-ish fog was filling the hovercraft. Is this the end?
As darkness overcame my sight, I cursed Dr. Cool, “May all your decendants be barren!” and the world faded from my sight.

the 15 GRE Words of the Day

  1. audacious (adjective) bold, daring, adventurous. Joan of Arc’s audacious plan to lead the Dauphin behind enemy lines of his coronation succeeded. audacity (noun).
  2. authoritarian (adjective) Favoring or demanding blind obediance to leaders. Ari Fleischer says, “If you’re not in favor of the USA becoming authoritarian, you’re helping the terrorists.” authoritarianism (noun)
  3. authoritative (adjective) Official, conclusive. The strong “buy” reccomendations in the boom years appeared to be authoritative, but were actually issued by individuals with conflicts of interest. authority (noun), authorize (verb).
  4. avenge (verb) To exact a punishment for or on behalf of someone. Some speculate that dubya’s proposed military adventure in Iraq is to avenge his father’s failure.
  5. aver (verb) to claim to be true; to avouch. Mitch will aver Dan’s claims of having burned a piano, because Mitch was a witness
  6. avow (verb) to declare bodly. Suddenly, in the midst of his sermon, the bishop avowed his queerness and shocked the congregation. avowal (noun), avowed (adjective).
  7. barren (adjective) Desolate; infertile. There are those who want to nuke third world countries into barren wastelands, but those people are stupid.   Elizabeth was old and thought to be barren, but then Gabriel showed up and announced to Mary that Elizabeth was pregnant with a fetus that would grow up to become John the Baptist
  8. belligerent (adjective) Quarrelsome, combative. While some folks become belligerent when drunk. marijuana does not cause such behavior changes
  9. belligerent (noun) an opposing army. a party waging war. The USA is the most active belligerent in the world.
  10. benevolent (adjective) wishing or doing good. Nuns dedicate their whole lives to benevolent purposes. . . or sometimes they become grade school principals. . .. benevolence (noun).
  11. berate to scold or criticize harshly. dubya cried in the oval office after Ralph Nader berated him for his stupid policies.
  12. boggle (verb) to overwhelm with amazement. the complexity of musical structures developed by Serialism boggles the listeners’ minds, but often not their ears.
  13. bogus (adjective) phony, a sham the USA’s claim of Nicuragua posessing MIGS turned out to be bogus, something to consider while pondering claims of nukes in Iraq.
  14. bombastic (adjective) inflated or pompous in style. Some who profess not to like opera, describe it as bombastic. bombast (noun).
  15. boor (noun) Crude, insensitive and overbearing. Although delightful when sober, Ralph turned into a terrible boor when drunk and would insist on sharing all the details of his latest sexual exploit. boorish (adjective)

I’m updating my blog and my mom is dead.
Well, it’s been four days and she seems pretty serious about this being dead thing. It seems like it might be permanent, not just some sort of phase she’s going through. This morning I woke up after having a nightmare that she died and then I realized that she really was dead. And then I had this odd thought that she was going to stay dead and that is was a permanent thing. I don’t know why I would think otherwise. Jesus called forth Lazarus from the tomb, but Jesus was Lazaras’ good friend and Jesus was walking around and stuff. And even though my mom seemed to have a lot of friends, no Jesus ever walked in to visit, as far as I know. I took ancient history when I was a freshman in college and the teacher said that there were street magicians raising the dead on every street corner in Jerusalem. The stuff that came out about Jesus raising the dead was written way after he died and far away from where he lived and was suppossed to illustrate how miraculous he was. But there’s no way he would have actually raised the dead, because it would have destroyed his credibility and made him nothing more than another street performer. And, as far as I know, no saints have any miracles of re-animating corpses, so no Christian supernatural forces are going to change this. Mom isn’t going to pop out and say, “oh this was all just a test. You passed so I decided to come back.” what a stupid thought.
When I first got the tatoo on my leg, I wasn’t sure I liked it and I was talking to people and I kept saying, “if I keep it . . .” as if it was some easily erasible thing, like a piercing or something. Anyway, I decided I liked it and realized it was permanent. I wasn’t just bing pragmatic. But I’ve never had a strong inner sence of the innate irreversability of some things. read: spacy
I’ve spent tho whole day being spacy, not being able to remember my way around berkely or the names of major streets like Shattuck. I went out in the morning with Christi to buy paper. The mortuary sells these auful guest books. They’re binders and they’re pre-printed and have images of things like Thomas Kinkaide on them. My mom liked Thomas Kinkaide, but since she’s dead, I can turn her into any person I want in my mind. My reference point slips away. I can say that liking his artwork was only a result of her brain tumor. Right now, I know that’s not true, but in time, I’ll make myself believe it. Anyway, the guest books are ugly and expensive for what you get. So Christi and I bought nice paper, some of which is made with rosebuds in it. I know she would like that, for real, not just in my invented version of her. And we got some more rice paper and some vellum and some paperboard and glue and good pens and razor blades and it’s costing more than the mortuary’s McDeath guest book, but at least it’s actually nice. Christi made the book used at her own grandmother’s funeral.
I went to esperanto class tonight. I was actually paying attention. I was trying to pay attention earlier, but couldn’t. I tried to explain -ig and -igx to the class, since Ed was refusing to teach a lesson for some reason I missed. But I dunno how useful my explination was. I got home and the first candle lit here was burned out. It took several times as long as it was suppossed to. These are the candles that were burning while my mom was dying. No wonder she held on for so long. Even the candles burn extra-long. It’s like some sort of miracle. A “dark miracle” like the ones at the beginning of Incubus. Maybe a temporary miracle, like the one the brain surgeon provided. Was it worth it? My mom would have been dead by mid-july and saved months of suffering. Were we stupid to think it was a good idea to remove a quarter of her brain and then try to cure her, with such a gigantic tumor, or was the surgeon unethical or uncaring to suggest it? Did it perhaps stand some sort of chance of improving her life for more than the good three weeks afterwards? Did the delay starting radiation treatment make any sort of difference at all? The surgeon said six months and she didn’t even make it that long. Maybe that’s the diference. Just another woman wih brain cancer, this is all very routine. Oooh, that’s a big tumor. We shouldn’t make her too big a priority. We can’t do much. Better not say that to the family. We’ll do what we can, in our way, when we have time.
What did I used to do with my days? I think I was working on some projects. I know I did web stuff for Sarah’s reptile zoo. I don’t feel much like working and I don’t know what I was doing anyway. Too bad I didn’t keep a blog back then. I could go look up boring posts of debuggin javascript or something. I want to go away. Christi has already missed oodles of work. My mom was a very major donor to Christi’s non-profit. But there’s nothing for them in the will. Christi can’t just have all the time off she wants, she has work to do. There’s a big film festival coming up that she needs to work on. Everything needs to get back to work, back to being normal. Life must go on. But not for my mom.

Um, so I left off my life chronicles sometime friday after my dad decreed that the candles must go. He was super irritating that day, but duh, his wife just died. My brother finally showed up for the first time in two weeks or so and was nice to my dad, but decreed that he wanted mom’s computer. Mom’s computer is a macintosh, but it has a cinemascope display, quite decent speakers attached and a superdrive. When my mom first got it, my brother called up Christi and ranted for a couple of hours about how stupid macintoshes were and what a terrible computer it was, while trying to get Christi to provide some tech support. My dad already told me I could have it. I told him he should keep it for a while. Will it just walk off, like so many things have that my brother wants, or has he outgrown that? We’ll see.
On saturday, we went over to the morticians to figure stuff out. Christi and I picked out clothes to bury my mom in. It’s a closed casket, but it wouldn’t be right to send her off in nothing but a Womens Philharmonic T-shirt. But mom lost so much weight, her clothes were all way too big. So we picked out her one wrap around skirt, so on the last day when Jesus calls us all out of our tombs, at least her skirt will fit right. And we picked out a pleated white shirt and a turquisoe jacket. When Mikey, our pet dachshund was still alive, I gave some pictures of him to Christi’s mom and had her make a vest with his image on it. It’s a nice vest with weiner dogs running around in circles on it, and it has some checkers and a lot of turquiose, since my mom looks good in it. After Mikey died, my mom quit wearing it for a long time beause “it [was] just too sad, you know.” She had just started wearing it again, so we picked it out too. I don’t know what else I could possibly do with a vest with pictures of a dead dog on it that had been specially made for my dead mom. So Christi, Dad and I showed up to the Lima Family Mortuary with those, and some nylons and the hat I got my mom and her teddy bear and a scapular and my mom’s volunteer ID Badges for History San Jose. My dad wants those on her. Why not? It’s a closed casket.
The mortician took the clothes, but told us to come back later with the bear, scapular and badges. We should have insisted on the scapular, sicne they’re suppossed to be worn under the clothes, but we didn’t. Then he took us into the casket room. There were some wood ones, which is good, cuz we wanted wood. And there was an ok hardwood one that said it was made from renewable materials, so I was thinking we could just get that and save ourselves the trouble of looking for an ecologically correct casket, since there was one right there. But then, wandering around the room, I noticed that the solid mahogany one also claimed to be a renewable natural resource and thus green. So after I became upset, the mortician showed us a catalog of orthodox caskets and we liked one of those, but decided to keep looking a few other places. We went to the casket outlet in San Jose, but they only had things even less green, so we went back to my parents house. Brother Robert invited my dad, my brother, my uncle, Christi and I over to his place for dinner. Shockingly, everyone agreed to come and my brother actually showed up. I guess it’s easier for him when dying people aren’t lying around.
Brother Bob called up a little more than an hour before we were all suppossed to go over. He just had cataract surgery and has been having trouble with his eyes. He was running late and distraught over my mom’s death and couldn’t read any of his cookbooks. So Christi went over and helped him make dinner. Which was great. He’s a great cook. And then he sent us home with the leftovers. We decided he should be a pall-bearer, but we forgot to tell him.
After that, I decided Christi and I should just stop by Mitch’s birthday party, especially since Tiffany and Luoi were going and didn’t know that many people. We showed up way late and T&L were already gone and everyone there was pretty drunk. Mitch’s mom was there. I saw a lot of her in highschool, but not much since then, except at parties. Mitch’s family are partiers. They would fight for their right to party. So she seemed to be drunk. She ran up to me and gave me a big hug and told me how great I was to my mom. Every time anybody says that, I cry. It’s not that I don’t want to hear it or anything, it justs makes me cry. The sermon on the mount makes me cry too and sometimes The Paino Concerto by Micheal Nyman makes me cry, it’s just one of those things. Not great for parties, but I shouldn’t be going to parties anyway, if I might busrt into tears. And then she said, “I’m your mom now.” So I ran away to the bathroom. And when I exitted, Mitch asked me if I would like a drink. yes. something. anything strong.
After Vince and Tammy left, the females remaining were Mitch’s mom (who came into the garage where we were drinking (why the garage?) every half hour and announced she was going to go to sleep), Christi, me, Sarah K, Sarah D and Jen Stout. Sarah K is out as bi. Sarah D is not out as bi, but has smooched chicks on occasion, especially when there’s beer in her. I got the idea that we should ask Jen Stout to strip. The Sarahs were all over that idea. Money was pledged. Mitch and an airforce guy started digging out one dollar bills. Jen Stout finally agreed, but didn’t like the music that was on. “I can’t strip to the Beastie Boys” she said. Mitch replied, “This is my best birthday ever.”
Uh yeah, so we talked her into something while she was drunk. When I die, I’m going to go to the peraly gates. And standing there will not be St. Peter, but rather Betty Friedan and she will send me to hell.
I woke up the next morning hung-over. Actually, the next afternoon. And went down to my parents house and finished writing the obituary notice, which we then took to the mortuary and they’ll submit it to the papers. How much extra are we paying for this? I dunno, we didn’t ask. Look for the notice in your next newspaper. My dad went out while I has still sleeping it off and bought a cemetery plot. The cemetery requires that all the markers be made out of wither granite or bronze. They need to be a certain exact size and shape. They need to lie flat. They must contain an christian symbol and be approved by the cemetery. The cemetery can change it’s mind in the future. They have catalogs of pre-cut stones that just needs a name and years. Sometime, when all pop-culture was telling us to look the other way, they McDonalds-ized death. The mortuary is a national chain. The grave markers come pre-cut. God forbid somebody try to say something too personal with a head stone.
My dad did some net surfing and discovered the kind of six sided profile box we were looking for to bury mom in is called a coffin. Square boxes are caskets. Vampire movie boxes are coffins. We couldn’t find any, so we ordered the orthodox casket. We scheduled the funeral. Then, I went back to my parents house and we relaized we needed to call people. It turns out that one of my mom’s friends was trying to be helpful and called a lot of people and told them the wrong day. We made a list of who needed to be called and Sarah K came over and called most of them. She then left to go to a party and I picked up all the candles and put them in my car. I got them home with the idea that I would put them on top of my bookshelf and burn them all one at a time until they all burned out and then take all the empties to the East Bay Depot for Creative Re-Use. But there were too many to fit on top of my bookcase. I’m going to be burning candles forever.
Today I went to St. Joseph of Cupertino parish to meet with the Monsenior to plan the funeral. Then I dropped Christi by work. Tiffany and I went out to the Albany Bulb, also known as the Albany Dump and the Albany Landfill. It’s rumored to be filled with art instillations. We came upon a castle. Two stories! And a hut. And several small sculptures. And an outdoor gallery by a group called Sniff. All of their stuff is good. Some of it is exceptionally excellent. The bulb is al the end of Buchanan Street in ALbany, kind of near the Berkeley border. There’s a trail or something there. Park and walk out on the penninsula that goes into the bay. It’s cool. We took xena and she spent the whole time running around in circles in estatic glee. Oh to be a dog.
I see a full moon and I think, “It’s a full moon and my mom is dead.” and I go for food and think, “I’m eating a pizza and my mom is dead.” and so I was thinking, “I’m looking at art and my mom is dead.” The art was excellent, but I’m not much for reviews right now.
We went home and I called the organist from Resurrection Church in Sunnyvale. When I was in Seventh and Eightth grade, I played trumpet every week at Satuday evening mass. I remebered hearing the organist talk about one of her teachers who was Baptist and how the catholic parishoners started complaining that she played like a protestant, so she had to get a new teacher. When my grandma died, less than a year ago, my mom picked all protestant hyms for the funeral. None of us knew what kind of music my grandma liked. The organist then played like a catholic and butchered the songs. So I’m very happy my old organist has said that she’ll play at the funeral.
Nothing much else happened since the last installement, except that porn came in the mail. It’s exciting living in a lesbian household. Tiffany is here and so Luoi is also here a lot. So the porn is universally popular. Oh and Luoi got a blog.

Hutchins, Eileen Frances (Forge) � In Cupertino, California on October 18, 2002, at age 65 after a short bout with brain cancer. She was predeceased by her parents, Muriel and Otis Forge. She is survived by her brother Chuck Forge, her husband Edward Hutchins, her son Paul Hutchins, her daughter Celeste Hutchins, her daughter-in-law Christine Denton and her cousin Sr. Mary Leahy. Eileen was raised on an orchard in Cupertino and attended Sacred Heart High School and Notre Dame High School. She graduated from San Jose State University and worked for several years as a medical technologist at local hospitals, including O�Connor and Kaiser. In 1975, she became a full time homemaker. She was active in her community and took classes at De Anza College in mathematics and piano performance. She also belonged to The Ladies of Carmel and donated to several non-profit groups, including funding an athletic scholarship at Santa Clara University. She served on the board of the Capital Campaign fund-raising committee for Our Lady of Fatima Villa in Los Gatos. In addition, she volunteered as a docent for the San Jose Historical Museum and was recording secretary for two years and later president of the Volunteer Council there.

There will be a rosary on Thursday, October 24 at 7:30 PM at the Lima Family Mortuary, located at 1315 Hollenbeck Ave, in Sunnyvale, California. The funeral services will be on Friday, October 25 at 10:30 AM at St. Joseph of Cupertino Church 10110 North DeAnza Boulevard in Cupertino, California. There will be a ceremony immediately afterwards at Gate of Heaven Cemetery and a gathering after that at Eileen’s home.