A big thank you to everyone who expressed their sympathies and condolences regarding the death of my grandfather in my last post. Thanks, too, to those that wanted to say something and didn't... even the thoughts unexpressed can somehow help.

We went to Hamilton this weekend for the funeral.

I found out my grandfather's first name wasn't what i thought it was. He used to introduce himself as Larry. I thought his name was Laddie. Turns out, it was Vladco. No wonder he preferred Larry.

I think it is very cool that my aunt's side of the family was there. They are barely related to him. The family of a daughter in law. Made me respect them. And it made me ashamed of my dad's side of the family, the family of the son in law. No one came to the visitation, or even called my dad or mom.

My nephew, Luke, got back from France and was a pallbearer in his great grandfather's funeral in the span of 48 hours. He's a good, kind, sweet, fun, funny and damn cool kid. His younger sister is equally as cool, just far more understated. Next time i think my sister in law is being a shit, i need to remember that she is one hella good mom.

When we arrived, my mom looked like shit that was feeling a bit under the weather.

I was brave enough to tell a story about my grandfather during the funeral services, even though i am very afraid of speaking in public. But my mom wanted me to.. she asked me to tell a story when the priest asked if anyone had any. She looked at me, and even though she would have understood if i didn't, i just had to. For her.

I bawled when she was reading. She doesn't cry easily, so when her voice was so wee and it cracked, i lost it.

I think her tears and the closure of the funeral helped her. She looked better this afternoon.

Death changes us. Sometimes, even for the better.

The death of Pierre Trudeau changed my life for the better.

I would like to take this experience forward and somehow make it positive.

I need to enjoy what i have. Someday, i will not have any of it...

I hope wherever you are, Grandpa, you are in the right lane. Thank you.

This afternoon.

I got an email from my mom today telling me that he had pneumonia. The docs were saying that although it is always hard to say when, he probably would not have much longer.

Then, when i got off work today, i checked my voicemail and there it was, a message from my mom telling me he had passed away.

Disgruntled. Its not just for postal workers anymore.

I know, old theme for me. Least, it is getting to be. I post about pugs and how much i hate work these days...

There are so many ways i can go with this. I will not go with the theme of how abusive working with the public can be. Nor will i go with the amount of times my boss has been insulting, abusive or even borderline abusive.

This weeks theme is scheduling.

I can't make plans. If i do, my schedule will change. I cannot make a dental appointment. Guaranteed i will be called into work.

It's starting to get to me.

I used to have a different attitude. I used to think the chaos was amusing. I would laugh and tell "let me tell you how fucked up my place of employment is" stories that my father thought would make a decent sitcom. Six months later and there is still one crisis after another. I do not think it will ever end.

How difficult is it to schedule 5 people? I once was a retail manager with far more staff and i never had so many changes, rearranges and last minute emergencies. I used to even write the schedule in... *gasp*.... ink!

Nope, not at Sally Beauty Supply. There, we can never be sure, day to day, when we are working. I have yet to have a single week in the 6 months i have been there that does not have at least one schedule change.

Our work week starts on Sunday. There have been times i do not know when i am working for the upcoming week until Saturday.

I am not sure it would be that much better if i did have it ahead of time. I look at it and know who the manager is pissed off at that week. That will be the person who works a closing then an opening the next morning once, maybe even twice in one week. Twice for me this week. I guess i am the kicking bag of the week.

I was thrilled and hopeful last week when i saw that we had a schedule for this week AND the following week posted, no matter how crappy it was. But, my thrill was not to last the entire week. Next week's schedule was down yesterday, which means changes are afoot.

I wouldn't be so pissy about it if i wasn't schedule for about double the amount of hours i was hired for. I really do not want a full time job there. Part time is chaotic enough, thanks. But someone was fired, so i guess i have to pick up the slack.

The manager, the self proclaimed "hardest working person here" *choke!!* fires someone, then, in less than a week, takes 5 days off in a row. I'm sorry you're sick, so was i, and i came in. I don't care if you need to use them or loose them; not my responsibility or fault you "had" to fire someone. Just give it to Lee, she will work it. Uhm, have you tried ASKING first? Did it matter if i may have had plans?

No.

Should i join the (e:peep) Roswell Cult? Are they accepting new members?

Ava had another litter of pups. On the 12th of February. Last night, i went to see them. OMG, they are so freakin adorable!!!

Here they all are, lined up in a row...



Ava feeding them, in a weird, half sitting up, half laying down position that looks uncomfortable.



I think Mama Ava is tired.







And here is Taj, a pup from Ava's first litter. He's a bit of a goof ball, this Monkey Faced Donkey...

(e:uncutsaniflush) and i went to the Tops on Jefferson yesterday. The Tops is actually nicer than the one near us on Grant at Amherst, even if it was smaller. Everything was tidy and well stocked. Unlike ours in which it is not uncommon to see rotting veg on the shelf.

While there, i really did feel like i was on the other side of a sickening black/white dividing line. We got a few curious looks. Mostly, like everywhere i have gone in Buffalo, everyone was friendly, though. I just felt sad that i even got the curious looks. And it made me wonder what it could be like to have the scenario reversed.

Recently at work, i got a compliment and got hit on. Such a refreshing change from the usual.

I can't remember how many times i have been called a bitch by customers. Mostly when i will not pick a colour for someone (excuse me, if it were up to me, everyone would have bright red hair, so why are you asking me what blonde you should be???), or when i give someone the honest truth (nope, you cannot put pink over black and have it come out true to the colour of the swatch).

I was going about my business when a young teenager (!?!) said, "you're nice!" when i was helping her mom or auntie or something. No, i do not think she was developemenally disabled.

The very next day, a guy who had just run a marathon, still had the number on and everything, hit on me. I asked him if he was feeling overly lightheaded from the run and laughed. He told me that i was a beautiful woman and shouldn't joke like that. I laughed again and told him he needs to have his eyes checked. I asked him if he would let me have a house full of dogs... because that is the only way i would trade in the husband i have. (not true, dear, i would never trade you in... but yes, i still want a dog!)

After work on Monday, we went straight to Canada to visit my grandfather. It was a tough visit for me, since i haven't seen him since he lost his mind.

Last we heard he has numerous brain tumours, swelling of his brain ((e:jenks) might be able to help with the medical lingo on that, and the spelling), as well as a shift of his brain. Apparently, the steriods are helping a bit, but my mom, the Power of Attorney with medical decisions, more or less agrees with the docs that there is no reason to try to treat the tumors, aggressively or not. It would just be torture for him, since he is not fully aware of what is going on anyway.

He did not recognize me at first, but after a while, i think he did. I helped him eat some pudding -- his aim was off a bit and he wouldn't be able to get the spoon into the little tub so i moved it to where he had the spoon.

We confabbed. If i replaced the words i thought he meant, things made sense. Like i know he did not have a sofa on his hand, just a bandage. A clear one, not a pink one. I also know he did not mean that he hoped we all had "good diseases". I think he meant "good lives, healthy lives".

I think, too, he understood more of what is going on with him than we all think. I saw something behind his cloudy eyes. I heard something between the lines of what he was saying. I really think he was saying we need to let him go, that we need to get together to celebrate once he is gone, not mourn. That he knows it is coming and it is ok with him.

But, i could be reading more into things because i need my own form of closure.