Kristel's Blog

Been back to work now for roughly a week. It’s busy: amazing how much stuff can pile up in a few days off. Hard to find the motivation to get up and work though — it’ll come back though I’m sure.

Added a new poll (few days ago actually); cheat all you want, and you can select multiple entries anyways.

Helped out at Johnathon’s birthday party on Saturday. Remind me never to have 8 kids, and certainly not 8 7-year-olds. One of the kids is “special needs” and Johnathon invited the poor kid because no one else invites him… I can see why. If I didn’t do all that volunteering with the special olympics, I don’t think I could’ve handled it. He wasn’t *that* bad (as long as he was having fun, of course) but it only takes one to get out of control and all of a sudden they all are. So anyways, there was 8 kids, one of them being a girl. (excluding his sister, but as she was helping, I’m thinking she doesn’t count as a guest.) I felt kind of bad for her, but they’re still young enough I guess that it no longer matters. There was another party, a bowling party, that was going on with the same group of kids, and we couldn’t compete with that, so his other girl friend, Cora, went to the other party. Oh well. I did however get him the best gift. I bought him a marshmallow shooter. Shoots mini marshmallows up to 30 feet! I want one! Joanna says there’s now marshmallows all over her house, but that just means he had a really great time… certainly more fun than with all the lego he got.

Sunday was church… and felt like a repeat of the visitation of Sunday before: tons of people wishing me their sympathies and so on. At least this Sunday I didn’t have to introduce myself as: Kristel, grandchild. Funeral last Tuesday was pretty good (or at least as good as a funeral can be.) One of the hymns was in German, which wouldn’t have been too bad if it wasn’t the last one, where all the German-speaking people (aka family) follow the coffin out. The flowers were nice though, I left our “grandmother” one for the church. Oh, during the pastors sermon (speech maybe?) about my grandma and whatever… he gets to the part where my dad joined the scout group in the church, and my uncle harry joined the youth group: which was riddled with drugs, booze and so on. (yes, they searched, and found, drugs in the church: it was that bad. And yes, Pastor James has known my grandparents, and their kids, for a *very* long time.) Anyways, so he gets to the youth group part of the story, and mentions that the kids in the youth group where “rascals” (his polite way of putting it.) Right about that point, there’s a *huge* crash at the back of the sanctuary, where no one was standing, and no one knows what fell. The story is that Grandma just didn’t like her son being talked of that way. Ooooh… Eeerie… I’m thinking when the funeral director moved over the chairs, to close the isle, so they could seat the family, and those we consider family, in the first three rows, he hit one of the things that hold the hymn books on the back of the chairs and it just wasn’t sitting right when gravity eventually won over… and since most of us had our hymn books on the floor anyways, no one would notice.

…Probably should get back to work. People want things, I should do those things, and then they’ll be off my back, and then I’ll be done.

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