Jeff's family has cancelled the annual family gathering. His dad called last night around ten to tell him. "Why?" I asked, almost shocked, once Jeff told me. Depends on who you ask, he replied. Apparently various family members are having some difficulties, and then there is the fact that Jeff's dad is dating, which may be causing some strain among the Alabama clan who feel it's a little too soon to be seemly. But most likely it's because the cousin of Jeff's who usually hosts the big family meal didn't feel as though she could go through with it this year without Jeff's mother. It would be too hard, too sad.
Well, fuck. I wish they had thought to ask the people who would be most affected by this decision, those folks being Jeff, his dad, and his brother, before calling it off. Jeff doesn't seem too upset by the development, but I think it might be a while before it sinks in. He was excited about going and seeing everyone. Yeah, it was going to be hard -- the last time we were there he saw his mother buried. But boy does he love his mother's family. So. I'm feeling very protective of him right now, but I know it's his issue to handle as he sees fit. We'll just...go someplace fabulous instead.
Work was intense today. I don't think I raised my head more than twice, once to eat lunch and once to put in my eye drops. Lately I'm feeling the need for some feedback. My boss isn't good at giving it. Am I doing ok? Better than ok? Worse? Do you love me, now that I can dance?
Kate died, Andre lost, the Rangers whomped on the 'Stros, I'm drained and worried from dealing with D. and his breakdown, I think all four cats have yeasties in their ears, and there's a mightily disturbing photograph from Saturday's Times looking me in the eye -- a Liberian kid with a pink teddy bear backpack, sitting in the street, pointing a semi-automatic at the photographer, his mouth open in an angry-looking O. Inside, on page 3, is another photograph, this one of a man holding up a sign: Georg W. Bush We Ire Dying.
"We want troops to be here," said Muhammad S. Jalloh, 18. "Americans are our big brothers."
I think I'll feel better if I go and wash some dishes, then take a shower and read the book I've just started, The Chatham School Affair. Be good, book.