Sunday. I'm done working for the night. Trying to do any Photoshop work of any magnitude on my laptop is like...

Analogy, Claire. Analogy!

Like trying to walk a cat. You try and take some nice steps and the cat freezes and refuses to move. Then you try and take little steps to coax it along and the cat still won't move. Eventually the cat starts eating the grass and then throws up everywhere. At which point you have to concede defeat.

My laptop just threw up grass.

I've been trying to find some interesting things for the webcam but to no avail. It occurs to me that the TV I'm watching is sitting on top of a wooden crate filled with toys from my childhood. I'll have to investigate.

In the meantime, I finally found a picture of my Grandma. It's a nice picture. She'd hate it. She hated having her picture taken.

One of the things she and I had in common.

Ah well. I should turn in for the night. It'll give my laptop some time to recover.

The bitch is back.

Well, I mean I'm always quite bitchy, but in this context I'm referring to the fact that I finally got wireless access set up in this planet claire outpost and can now rant anytime I like without trying to mooch off someone else's connection.

Plus: the webcam made its way over.

Things are looking up.

It's weird not having constant internet access. The only time I have to write anything seems to be after midnight. And it's near impossible to find some random's wireless access late at night.

Today my mom was reading through a Collier's from 1939 (found in my Grandma's stuff). And she pointed out an ad for Sanka. Apparently (in the ad) the wife was not looking forward to a visit from a judgmental in-law. But she gave her some Sanka and the next day the cranky relative woke up and announced that she had never slept better! Thanks Sanka!

So she went out and bought them a car. Because of Sanka.

Isn't it comforting to know that advertising execs have always been batshit insane?

I don't know. It makes me feel better anyway.

I just got back from the funeral. It was a nice service. The people we expected to be there were there. It was nice to see family I hadn't seen in some time.

But it's nice to be home. There are only so many ways you can answer the question "How are you doing?" with a genuine mix of sorrow and positivity before it sounds like a badly scripted Aaron Spelling show (oh who am I kidding? They were all badly scripted).

First you have to have the mix more on the sorrowful side: "I'm hanging in there. But it's not easy." "I'm just okay right now."

Then you can mix in a bit more positivity: "I'm doing okay." "I'm doing better, but it's still hard. She'll be missed."

Then toward the end you can just wing it: "I know she's up in Heaven with Grandpa. Probably playing Canasta. Or spying on you at night." "I'm doing good. How's that hairpiece sticking to your head, anyway?"

Hm. A Ryan Adams song on American Idol. I think that's a first.

They seemed to attribute it to Tim McGraw, so I'm a bit confused. And it wasn't exactly the greatest performance of the song. The original is beautiful.

I'm scrambling to get ready to leave tomorrow morning. I'm a great packer, but not for funerals. I can't find anything to wear and I have a feeling that whatever I find my mom is going to hate.

Maybe I'll go do my nails.

I suppose I ought to wrap up the hospital stay. It's been long enough:

Bottom line: overstress, overwork, poor nutrition and a whole host of other things landed me in the hospital. They kept me for a few days, pumped me full of blood, gave me lots of pills, scolded me for not taking care of myself, and sent me on my way.

So no sooner did I get out of the hospital than my grandmother's health took a turn for the worse. I mean, pretty much the day I got out. So last week my mom spent much of her time with her mom. It was hard to see Grandma. She looked like she was in incredible pain. They upped her drugs and toward the end of the week she was better. Better as in she was sleeping all the time.

On Friday the rest of her immediate family came to be with her. Saturday I had just finished work and was heading out to see her when mom called to tell me she had passed away.

So that's pretty much been the main focus of my time. That and trying to get all my work done around the visitation and funeral.

I'm a little stressed.

Grandma had been diagnosed with dementia years ago, and over the past year the Alzheimer's had really become more and more apparent. She seemed to know faces, but not names.

But she never lost her sense of humor. Never got mean, never had severe personality changes... always just the sweetest peron.

We've been going over photos of her and her family, trying to pick some out for a DVD slideshow and for some boards to display at the visitation. Grandma HATED having her photo taken, so it's been hard finding photos that we felt she would be okay with having out in public. We even found a note in her effects dated and signed which stated, in no uncertain terms, that there was NOT to be a photo included in her obituary.

Strangely enough, she married a photographer.

I have intermittent internet access at the moment. Which sucks.

Anyway, I collapsed on Wednesday. Fifteen minutes later I was in an ambulance. Never been in one before. I asked if they could turn on the sirens but they politely declined.

Well, as it turned out, my night went awry. The night of the fourth anyway.

I just got out of the hospital. Fun places, hospitals.

And yet I get home and all I have is spam. Boring.

You know there has to be something interesting going down when three police cruisers in a row drive by your apartment without sirens or lights on.

And, unless I miss my guess, a couple of unmarked cars just went by as well.

Someone's night is about to go awry.

I'm up at 4 AM. Which is always so much fun. Especially since I have to work tomorrow.

And my eyes are killing me. I forgot to take out my contacts again.

I was flipping channels and came across a program called "Hippies: The Dark Side" and was totally stoked. Because there aren't enough programs about the scourge of the hippies.

Turns out it was "Hippos". Stupid contacts.

Alright, I lied.

Well, not lied. I got two renewal notices. One for my professional site and one for this site. And I mixed them up. So I have another two months before this site goes down. Which should hopefully coincide with the last few shows I quote.

In other news: I can't sleep. Nothing new, yeah? And I have a cat staring at me.

She seems to think that every time I come home or wake up she should be fed. So she's trying to stare me down. And it's creepy.

She does a good job.

I got a renewal notice for this site today. And I've been thinking about it. I can't afford paying $42 a month anymore for a site that doesn't make me any money.

I think the fact that The OC is gone, Stargate SG-1 is nearing completion, and Queer Eye is on its last legs doesn't help either. Any minor sales I got from t-shirts will dry up shortly.

So I suppose this is a swan song of sorts. The site will remain at least until the 6th. I'm not sure whether my hosting company shuts it down immediately or not.

Anyway, I can't even express how cool it has been to correspond with you rant readers over the years. I have gotten emails from some of the greatest people. From all over the world. It blows my mind.

So, thanks. It made me feel like the world was a little less big. And in honor of this little, dorky site, Ramona: