Thanks to all of you who've sent condolences and other kind words. It's been a peculiar week.
For whatever reason, I thought I'd be able to just keep doing what I do. What a dolt.
I spent Saturday fussing with my class's web site, but not doing much building. I couldn't think hard about construction, but I could certainly put bylines in the right style and other BS like that. When I wasn't fussing, I was wandering the house, eating, staring at the fire in the fireplace.
I spent Sunday crying.
Monday was more normal, having to go to school. But I still didn't do much. Same yesterday. I'm supposed to be finishing work on my date rape drug story, but I just can't work up the gumption to call sources or the motivation to sift through statistics.
Today I've managed to go Christmas shopping. Walgreen's had Russell Stover 12-oz. boxes on sale for $3.99. $3.99! I mean, hello – I'm going back tomorrow.
I hate it when people buy that mega-cheap chocolate at Christmas. It's gross. It's not worth the calorie bomb if I don't swoon. And Steamboat Ray's or whoever else's is on sale for $5 for five pounds does not make me swoon.
Not that Russell Stover's is chocolate perfection, but it tastes good and doesn't have any pig hairs in the chocolate creams.
We had a monster snowstorm yesterday. Even Eric's school was canceled. We got the ice storm that moved through south of here, but because it was colder here, we got it as snow. It started icy, actually, and then got five inches of snow on top of it, which made driving pretty horrific. I was so glad Eric didn't have to go to work. He's got a terrible cold and really didn't want to go in, anyway. And it was so nice to just hang. And not work on my final story.
Here's a morning-after photo of my gazing ball.
I leave Friday for Clint's funeral. I'm crashing on the couch at their house. I'm glad. I was going to stay with one of Lee's friends, but if I'm not at a motel, I'd rather be with family.
I borrowed a Hawaiian shirt from my neighbor Scott. Clint wanted everyone to wear Hawaiian shirts. My sister-in-law T sent out a jar of Wisconsin dirt. I have no idea how she dug it up – the ground is frozen and covered in several inches of snow. Clint said if he couldn't be buried in Wisconsin (and Lee said he couldn't) he wanted some Wisconsin dirt spread over his grave so he could be buried in his native soil.
I'll be back Monday for my final exam. Then I'm done, and I'll make the house merry.
Oh, Eric's dad is having hip replacement surgery today. Good luck, John!