What are you working on right now? I needed something quick and easy to throw into my bag, so I am stitching a Bent Creek kit, Flower Arch Angel. She doesn't look like much yet or I'd take a picture. I'm also working on my sister's poncho--couldn't do too much on it: I was with my sister most of the time, and when I wasn't I was dressed in black and that alpaca shed all over me. I'm also working on an afghan for my aunt. I think that's the limit of my active projects.
I'm still hive-y. Attending my grandfather's funeral meant that I couldn't go to the dermatologist last week, which kind of sucks because I'm in pain. It wasn't like my grandfather and I were close. But he was very good to my cousins and they were pretty torn up about it, and in the end, I really like them. I guess I was there to mourn the relationship I always wanted with him. Two of my cousins eulogized him. My cousin A gave a really good speech, using one story to exemplify how good he was to his family, which was true if he happened to consider you family. He didn't like my mother, and once told me that I wasn't part of his family since my mother wasn't his daughter. (Like that one? I've got hundreds.) To everyone else, he wasn't so good. The second eulogizer was my even dippier cousin C who started out so promisingly, comparing my grandfather Hector to Hector in the Iliad, which worked since my grandfather was a family man and a military man. (Of course, it would be more difficult for him to see that my grandfather actually was more like Achilles, in it for the glory.) From there, the eugoogoly degenerated rapidly. C is the cousin who had "spent all day thinking about a toast" for my grandparent's 60th anniversary and then said he hoped they had 60 more wonderful years together. He also thinks my grandfather--whose demise we learned of in the middle of game 7 (that's Sox v Yankees)--had something to do with their winning. Um, okay, if you think so, you should keep it to yourself. I didn't really buy it since they led the whole game, but people probably didn't remember the details; they did, however, laugh nervously. Anyway, my dad was kind of sad; I think he too mourned the relationship that might have been. Ironically, my dreaded mother--who my grandfather once fired from her job--was instrumental in putting the funeral together and even did a reading during the mass. Proving we should all rise to our occasions. Back to stitching tomorrow.
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