ARRGGGHH

Why? Why does weird, awkward shit happen to me all the time? Why can't life just allow me to live like a normal person with normal decisions and normal consequences? WHY AM I THE POSTER CHILD FOR MELODRAMA?!

I'm so frustrated, I can hardly type. I wish there existed someone who represented the WHY of life. I'd shake his or her shoulders and scream, All I want is a little place to call my own with a warm kitchen and a litten kitten to keep me cozy. So WHY?! Why can't you make this easy for me?!

About a month ago I was having a bad night and, in a crazy whirlwind, made a bad decision. I bought my first purchase on eBay. A $1400 Mac Powerbook laptop. My first eBay purchase, my first Mac, and my first laptop. A good purchase? Sure. But in my delusion and naivete, I somehow got it into my head that this would be the ONLY Powerbook available for some time and so, I bought it immediately without doing ANY research or comparison. Only after I paid did I realize my mistake. So...

A week later I received the laptop. Beautiful. Expensive. Totally not what I would have chosen had I done any research. However, luck was on my side, and within two days, I was able to sell it to a local for just a little less than what I'd paid for it. *phew*

Before you could blink, I was back on eBay, this time ready to research and compare until my eyeballs fell out. I took notes, I printed out my favorites, I spent oodles and oodles of hours online until FINALLY - FINALLY - I decided on the perfect laptop. The same Powerbook, but this time, fully loaded with software, still within warranty, and MUCH more valuable than my first purchase. I bid. I won. But...

Jason scolded me for using PayPal for my first purchase and warned me against using PayPal again for this second laptop. He sent me to an anti-PayPal site overflowing with horror stories of fraud and scams. Overcome with fear, I quickly closed my PayPal account and told the seller I'd pay with a cashier's check. The guy said sure. A week later...

He received my check. But he emailed me to let me know that his grandmother had fallen ill and he had to make an emergency trip to Baltimore to be by her side. Although he wouldn't be able to mail the laptop for several more days, he assured me that he'd put in more money to make the shipping go faster. Days went by...

And I never heard from him. He had been so gracious and so on top of things before, but suddenly, it was like he didn't exist. No more emails. Nothing. I watched my email and my front door like a vigilant hawk, hoping for either a package or an email from him with an explanation. I sent a courteous email. No answer. I sent an urgent email. No answer. I called him. He didn't pick up. By this time,...

I was frantic. I don't have much money. I'm not in a steady job. I'm completely on my own. And I had $1400 on the line! Where was this guy?!

As luck would have it, the guy had posted his resume online. I tracked down his employer's number and called them. The secretary heard the urgency in my voice and finally told me the horrible news: The guy had passed away suddenly just a few days before.

WHAT?! What the...how the...WHAT?! I pressed her for more information. She even transferred me to her boss. But no one could give me any more information. He had simply passed away in his sleep.

I thought I was going to throw up. I would almost have preferred to be robbed than to have to hunt down a dead man's grieving family for money. Oh God, I'm going to throw up...

So I called his city's newspaper. Nothing in the obituaries. I scoured the Internet and tried everything in my power to find more information. Nothing. Finally, I remembered the sick grandmother in Baltimore. I looked up his last name in the white pages of Baltimore...

Four families showed up. Should I call them? What the hell was I going to say? "Hello, are you related to this guy? Um, if you are, can you give me my money back?" I took a deep breath and dialed with my heart as heavy as stone...

The first call led me to a sweet elderly lady who called me "dear" and "love". The last name was just her family name, so I chuckled a little bit and thanked her for her time. The second call was disconnected. On the third call, a man answered. This was our conversation:

"Hello?"
Hi, um, my name is Leslie, and I was just wondering...do you know anyone by the name of -------?
"Yes."
Oh great. Do you know how I can get a hold of him?
"He's dead."
Oh...oh God, I'm so sorry. Um, do you know how I can get a hold of his immediate family?
"I AM his immediate family. I'm his step-father."
Oh! Oh my goodness, uh, I'm SO sorry, I didn't know...you have my every condolence, really, you do. Um, listen...I really hate to bother you with this, but your son sold me a laptop, and I paid for it, and then I didn't hear from him so I got worried, and...
"Listen. Just stop right there, okay? Just STOP. Here's my name. Here's my fax number. Fax me all the documents next Monday when I'm back at the office."
Oh, okay. Is it okay if I fax it tomorrow? (Thinking that I'd be at my mother's office tomorrow and I could fax it then.)
"NO. I'm burying my SON on Sunday. Do you hear what I'm saying?"
Oh...yes I do, I'm so sorry...I, um, thank you so much...goodbye...
"Goodbye."

I started to cry. I couldn't stop. His curtness stung, but I wasn't mad at him. I was mad at myself. I felt like the worst person in the world. I felt like a cruel tax collector. And his words...I'm burying my son...It's real, isn't it? People really do bury their children all the time, don't they. I just couldn't stop crying.

I called my mom and she told me that I'd been insensitive, which I didn't think was fair, but I understood what she was saying. They were burying their son. Give them time.

Afterwards, I got a call from a person that I had called earlier in the midst of my search for the man's family information. We talked in a low whisper...I guess that's just the natural tone people take when it's about death. He told me that the guy had only been 25. That he was a great guy...so great that literally over a thousand people were flocking to his funeral on Sunday. Even his former employer was sending 4 busloads of people to from New York to Baltimore in order to attend the funeral. And then he asked me how I knew the guy...

I sighed. I wanted to lie. I'm an ex, I'm his doorman, I'm his pizza dude, I'm a stripper at his club, ANYTHING but the truth. But I told him. I know him through eBay, I said slowly. I bought a laptop from him. I'd never felt more like a joke in my life.

He told me not to feel bad and reassured me that finances are an unfortunate must when someone dies. I thanked him and we hung up.

Now I'm still crying, but my mind's in a hundred different directions. I have to ask a man who just buried his son for money next week...Thousands of people? Will thousands of people show up at my funeral?...Maybe I'm not meant to have a laptop...Am I overreacting?...Burying my son...Burying my son...He was 25...Everyone loved him...

I want to throw up.

Honey, I'm Home!

I've never had a home. Not in the poetic sense, anyway. I've never had what a home connotes: familiarity, belonging, time, recognition. When I was at college, I was jealous of all the silly freshmen who cried because they missed home. I wished I had something to miss. Growing up, I was transferred through six different schools, hugging friends goodbye as fast as I made them. Home life was turbulent and painful. Consequently, my room was the only thing that was ever my own. My very own space and time that never changed and I always recognized. That's probably why to this day, I do 90% of my indoor activities inside my bedroom, and the first thing I look at when renting a place is the spaciousness of the bedroom. That's MY own place. It's where I know I belong.

Life after I graduated was and is NOTHING like I expected, and a big part of my surprise has to do with where I am. If I was living the life I'd thrown together my senior year, I'd be waitressing right now in Nashville, Tennessee, living on bread and the country soul. After living an entire life of non-existence in Cincinnati, I swore it off. Anything but Cincinnati. No Cincinnati. Not ever, ever again. But here I am. I'm here, down in the humble, no-nonsense city of Cincinnati, and I have no plans to leave any time soon.

What happened? How could the city I hated all my life turn into the city that would hold my life in its hands as it flourished? Did it change or did I?

I really don't know. I really don't care. All I know is that life changes, and within a month of moving back home, I met some new friends. So I stayed.

Then I figured out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. So I stayed.

Then I met Jason. So I stayed.

Then I got my first job. So I stayed.

Then I moved out and into my first "hey I'm all on my own now!" apartment and bought my first car. So I stayed.

Then I got sick, sicker, and sicker-est. So I had to stay.

Then suddenly the ball dropped, and it was 2006. The storm of my life had cleared but had left me unemployed and slightly clueless. So I prayed (a little) and pounded the pavement (a lot). I got one client here, one client there, and then in one week in March, I got 4 new clients all at once. Suddenly the little girl in pigtails needed a business suit, 'cuz HELLO WORLD, she's a professional!

And now here I am. Jason and I are officially an "old couple" with one year under our belt. I'm no longer sick. My parents and I are no longer trying to assassinate each other. I'm getting more clients all the time. Because of my new involvement in the community, I constantly meet eager young professionals working in all kinds of cool places that will one day take over this city. Once in a while, I even meet someone pretty important. And in my downtime, I'm reading the magazines that I used to see on the floor of my parents' study rooms and gag. You know, those boring magazines that need more flair on their covers and talk about business and local happenings? Yeah, I'm actually reading those. And liking it. *shudder*

And so, without even meaning to, I did the exact opposite of what I had planned and still came out with a better outcome. A home. A real home that I miss when I'm away. A place where people recognize me, where I have my favorite restaurants, where I'm proud - proud to live and be a part of.

It only took me 23 years to find a home. And it feels great.

Yes, I'm alive.

Just wanted to let you all know that I'm alive. I really am.

So much is happening. Is life always like this? Always unpredictable? Bursting with dreams that have yet to materialize? A perpetual waiting game? A test of faith?

Or is it just because I'm young and it's a phase I have to go through?

I'm okay with either answer.

I have so much to tell you all, but my mind won't let me yet. There is so much...so much...and it's all blocking my pathway from my mind to my fingers. But don't worry, I am thinking of you all every minute. Yes, you. And you. And you too. You are all special to me.

In the mean time, I leave you with a picture of my friend at a Halloween party. Needless to say, he won the contest for best costume.

First Death, First Life: Part II

Dear Jason,

Today is our Anniversary. Our one-year, "holy cow has it really been that long stick a fork in us are we done yet" Anniversary.

In some ways it feels just like yesterday I met you, but in other ways, the cliche doesn't apply to us at all. Okay, let's just compromise by saying that I remember everything about the day I met you.

It was a Monday morning. I didn't want to get up, but you said you were from "out of town", whatever that meant, and that you were going to be driving through Cincinnati after dropping a friend off at the airport. Eight o'clock on a Monday morning is a helluva early time to meet a stranger, but your picture in your profile was really handsome and...well...I guess I could make an exception.

Just like me, I was late. Just like you, you were early. The first of a thousand differences that we would eventually discover. I walked into the restaurant and there you were, sitting in the first booth next to the door, your nose stuck in a textbook that didn't look as interesting as you might have hoped. I sat down and I was immediately struck by how handsome you were, despite your solemn expression.

I immediately started chatting away about who-knows-what with my infamous air of confidence with a hint of intimidation. You looked so serious that I tried extra hard to make you laugh. You only cracked a smile twice, but for those few precious seconds, your entire countenance changed. I wanted to see you smile all the time; I wondered why you didn't.

In the meantime, you filled me in on the broad strokes of your life. You told me you used to be a waiter and you showed me a baby picture of your eldest niece. You made such a big deal about good customer service from waiters that I was little put off. And then when the bill finally came, you tipped the waiter so much that I thought you had a lot of money.

I had mentioned in passing about the opening of an art gallery, simply for conversation. Yet before we left, you said, "So I'll see you in 2 weeks? For the art gallery?" I guess you paid more attention than I thought. You complimented me on my long black boots. I hugged you, and your surprise amused me.

We hung out casually over the next month. Nothing serious, just fun. I was confused by your mystery, your random bouts of silence, and vague attempts to hint your true interest. At the same time, I was drawn to your spontaneity, your stories of wild young nights, and your carefree nature. I jaywalked; you waited for the green light. I printed out directions and scribbed in landmarks on the map; you just wanted to know which state I wanted to be in. I was elated that you didn't care whether we turned left or right, let alone what we did next.

In the meantime I was hanging out with several other new friends. I even started to get involved with another man. I didn't know what to do about you - I even asked a friend which man I should choose. The other man made so much logical sense. In my head, he was a fairytale romance. But he didn't have my heart. That part of me was wandering off elsewhere...to you.

After weeks of agonizing deliberation, I decided to go with my heart. Frankly, being with you made no logical sense at all. But I couldn't ignore the spark and the invisible connections that were beginning to tie us together - It is that same intangible connection that kept me coming back to you when things got rough and keeps me by your side even now.

I never planned to act on my decision. But then things never happen the way we plan it, do they? One month after we met, I drove to your house for the first time to watch a movie. Two hours later, I demanded you kiss me. 24 hours later, we were in love.

Since then, life has been a happy-sad-maddening-murderous-forgiving-loving rollercoaster. You and I have seen each other through some major life transitions; our relationship has had more than its fair share of bumps and bruises too. Many times I have questioned whether I made the correct decision. Should I find someone more like me?

But every time I think about leaving, I realize that being with someone else would mean not being with you. And THAT is something I would never consider. As painful as it is to be with you sometimes, it is even more painful to be without you.

I know your soft spots. I know how to make you smile. I know the smell of you skin and the taste of your kiss. Those are my soft spots. That's my smile. That's my skin and my kiss. You are mine and I am yours.

I love you, Jason. The things we disagree on, our baggage and our flaws...we can be taught how to work through those things. As far as love goes, we have that down pat, yet it's something that can't be taught. I'd say we're doing pretty well thus far, wouldn't you?

Here's to another year, baby.

Your loving girlfriend,

Leslie

First Death, First Life: Part I

Dear Grandpa,

Today was your memorial service. My very first one. The day carried on like a normal day. I got up early, took a shower, put on my new black suit, and slipped into my little black heels. When Jason and I arrived at the memorial home, I walked inside and greeted all the old faces...the faces of my parents' friends who, for over 20 years now, have watched me grow up. They all gasped and exclaimed at how much weight I had lost and they smiled at me - me, all grown up and pretty. I blushed a little and ran up to the front of the room where my mother greeted me and smiled when she saw me in my new outfit.

I admired the amazing arrangements of flowers. I wondered how difficult it must be to arrange flowers in such lovely shapes. Even the sight of your blossom urn and your picture did not phase me. Then I decided that I wanted to say something too. Mom and Dad were giving a eulogy, but I wanted you to know that I cared.

We sang and listened to the Pastor speak. Dad got up and gave a moving account of your life. Then it was my turn. (Mom said that I should speak before her since I carry your last name and she doesn't.) So I stood up behind the microphone, without any notes at all, and began to speak. At first my voice was even. I looked everyone in the eyes; those who were sleeping woke up to listen to me and those who were awake smiled back at me. In the middle of my talk I looked back at your urn in reference to you, and it was then that it hit me that this was really happening. You were really gone. My voice began to quaver and I stopped looking everyone in the eye. I ended my talk by telling everyone that I loved them and I sat down.

We ended the procession by sealing your urn into the walls - a permanent place for us to pay our respects for the rest of our lives. Everyone else was chatting, but Shiao Yi was alone and silent, staring at the space in which you'd rest forever. I wrapped my arms around her and said, "Don't worry Grandma, this isn't goodbye. You'll see him again." But she was beyond consolation. Her eyes filled with grief and tears and she whispered, "He is gone from my sight."

Oh how that broke my heart. She loves you so much, Grandpa. I'm just a baby trying to live as an adult. It is so hard for me to grasp the depth of the kind of love like the one Shiao Yi has for you. With a love like that, you will never be far from us.

So you're gone now. I have no grandpa's left. In that sense I am sad. Maybe we never spoke much. Maybe we weren't a big part of each other's lives. But your presence filled a part of my life, and even the smallest gap can seem like the largest.

Anyway, I want you to know that Dad is doing just fine. He's had a lot of time for reflection and he's coming to terms with your passing. Jen and I are also getting along just fine. It is just Shiao Yi we are all worried about. I don't blame her. How do you keep on living if a part of you has died? I suppose you just thank God for the part you have left and move on with what you have. And she will, with time. She will.

Keep a few seats warm for us in Heaven, Grandpa. The mahjong tables up there must be frickin' sweet.

Your loving grand-daughter,

Ting Ting

How much would you pay Jesus?

A conversation I overhead in Starbucks between a police officer and a homeless man:

Homeless man: Do you read the Bible?
Police officer: Nope. But I do have money.
Homeless man: Then what are you going to say to Jesus when you get to Heaven?
Police officer: Eh, I'll just give him 20 bucks.

Bribing Jesus. Nice.

My First Meme!

What's a meme? I don't know. All I know is that Kimananda posted this...post...and called it a meme and challenged me to answer the questions. So I will.

1) Why and how did you start your blog?
I started this blog because I can type much faster than I can write. This wouldn't be such a problem if I didn't have so much to say all the time. So despite my loyalty to beautiful paper journals (I started at the age of 10 and I now have 19 paper journals), I started a blog. On Xanga. That failed because, as a creative both professionally and personally, the format of it sucked. The blinking ads were tacky and what the hell is the point of eProps? Then I followed a former crush to Melodramatic where I posted a second blog. That failed too. It was a little TOO melodramatic. After a long drought, I decided that I really needed an online blog and, since I love Google, I naturally signed up for blogger.

I will never leave.

2) If you have a special 'nom de blog', how did you choose it?
My first "nom" was The Raw World. Frankly I did that just to fill space. I had no idea that was going to be the official name of my blog, but by the time I realized it, it was too late. All of my new blog friends had already tagged my blog with that title. However, some time later I decided to completely redo the design of my blog and thought a change in name wouldn't hurt either. After 5 seconds of excruciating thinking I came up with the boring name of About A Girl. Because, well, it is.

3) How did you come up with the name for your blog?
See above.

4) What things do you tend to blog about the most, and why?
Jason comes up a lot in my posts. 'Cuz lets face it, we all pretty much blog about what makes us feel an emotion. What makes me mad? What makes me sad? What makes me happy? What makes me laugh? The answer? Jason. Jason. Jason. Judge Judy. (And Jason.)

Since I am an optimist and live my life on laughter, I try to post funny anecdotes. Laughter cures all. However, if something is REALLY bothering me, I'm not afraid to post a little reality either.

5) Are there subjects you'd like to blog about, but don't, and if so, what is stopping you?
Ah, a GREAT question. The answer? Sex.

No seriously. There are so many times I want to blog about sex and sexuality but I don't. I guess I'm afraid that I'm going to offend someone or it'll turn my cute PG blog into an X-rated one. That's not to say I'm always thinking dirty thoughts or want to write erotica. Not at all. But sex is a real part of our lives, and a lot of times I'd like to share my experiences and thoughts. My confusion, my frustrations, my triumphs, my guilt, my pleasure...all of it.

6) How do you organize your blogroll/links?
Erm, as far as my links go, I fiddled around with the template until it looked good enough. I'm a design stupeedo and that frustrates me. As soon as I receive my Mac in the mail I'm going to buy the Adobe Creative Premium Suite 2 and start walking the path to design guruness!

7) How do you feel about the design of your blog? Are there any changes you'd like to make to it?
Well it's much better looking than it was. It's colorful yet clean, just like me. However, it's not as seamless as I would like. I want it to be contemporary yet fluid. Sigh. I'll get there.

8) How often do you post new entries on your blog? Would you like to post more (or less) often?
Sometimes I struggle to post twice a week, and other times like today, I post 3 times a day. It depends more on what I have to say and less on how much time I have.

9) How often do you read and/or comment on other blogs? How do you find new blogs to read?
I'm not going to lie, I don't comment nearly as much as I used to. I still read people's blogs, I just don't always comment.

I no longer find new blogs (unless they find me first) anymore because I have enough blogs to pay attention to as it is, but when I first got here and had no friends, I'd hit that lovely NEXT button and VOILA! New friends!

10) Have you done anything special to get others to read and/or comment on your blog?
Since they don't have a way for me to virtually flash someone, no.

However, I usually comment on someone's blog so they will comment on mine. It's only fair.

And You Wonder Why I'm Cheap.

I'm not obsessive about coupons, but for all my favorite spots and purchases, I know how to get a better deal. There's always a coupon in the local newspaper for my favorite Indian restaurant. Whenever I shop at Bigg's I always go back into the store to take advantage of the "FREE coupon" deal they give me at the checkout. For pizza coupons, I keep the national Reach magazine (which also always has a coupon to my favorite Italian restaurant.) I'm signed up on the New York & Co. mailing list so I can print out their coupons when I shop there.

Just the other day at dinner, my dad boasted that he went online to print out a $1 coupon for the chinese buffet he took my aunt to. And the buffet costs $8.

Sigh.

How I Know I Have No Shame Left

While shopping at DSW with my mom, I was asking her advice about the shoes I was trying on when I decided to squat down. No sooner had I squatted did I let out a very short but very audible fart. The lady shopper next to me smiled and was visibly trying not to laugh. My mother and I walked out the store, her trying to suppress her laughter and my guffaw booming off the walls.

Let's play ketchup

Let's see, a few things...

My family decided to have Grandpa cremated. We're having a memorial service next Saturday - ironically, on the same day as my one-year Anniversary with Jason. The first life, the first death...on the same day. Hm.

In other news, my parents actually LIKE Jason now. MY PARENTS LIKE JASON! If you knew the extent of their hatred toward him and our relationship in the beginning, you'd be blown away too. My dad had forbid him from the house. My mom wouldn't look him in the eye. Neither would acknowledge his existence, let alone mention him in conversation. But now, one insufferable year later, my dad engages him in conversation. My mom invites him to dinner. They both behave comfortably around him. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, SOMEONE PINCH ME.

What made the difference? I can't say for sure, but I think it had a lot to do with Jason helping my mother around the office by setting up her new furniture. He also accompanied me on two visits to see my grandpa, and I think his quiet, steady presence by my side spoke loudly to my parents. BUT WHO CARES?! THEY LIKE HIM!

In other news, not only did I make my FIRST eBay purchase last weekend, but I also bought my FIRST Mac and my FIRST laptop. A used 15" Mac Powerbook. I am so excited. When I realized I'd won the bid, I freaked out because it meant spending a lot of money that I REALLY NEED! But it's an investment, and in one fell PayPal swoop, I sealed the deal. Now I await my laptop in the mail. Mac lovers, welcome me into your world! Bye bye PC, hello APPLE! (Jason is a little miffed, btw. He's a PC lover and says he doesn't know if he can live in the same household. Tough luck, buddy.)

In the meantime, my bank account is still slowly depleting. Money's a life breaker and taker, and I'm trying my best to remain faithful to God...trusting him to bring me more clients for my freelance work, trusting him to keep me afloat, trusting him to help me pay my bills. I know that a year from now I'll look back and realize it was all worth it, but golly, it's hard until then, you know?

Phone Conversations: The Double Standard

Jason: Looks like I'll be able to hang out with you until Tuesday this weekend.
Leslie: Better be better than last weekend. Last weekend was poo.
J: Yeah...
L: POO, do you hear me?!
J: Speaking of poo...*FLUSH*
L: Ew! You were pooping while we were talking?
J: Well YEAH. I was pooping at work but Shane was rushing me so I had to cut it off.
L: I distinctly remember telling you that Angela used to pee and poop while we were on the phone and YOU SAID that was disgusting. And now you're doing the same thing?
J: That's different. I'm a guy.
L: Excuse me?
J: Guys are supposed to be gross. Girls are dainty and clean. Girls don't pee or poop.
L: Then I must be a huge disappointment.
J: Basically.

Bye, Grandpa.

Dear Grandpa,

Today you died. Mom called me tonight and I could tell by the tone of her voice.

I'm not going to lie, Grandpa. I'm not crying and I don't feel too upset. I just feel...weird. I've never dealt with death before. I've never gone to a funeral. One time Jason brought me to his friend's mother's viewing and I crept up to her coffin like a curious kitten to a ball of yarn. I wasn't sure what I was going to see.

Poor Shiao Yi. Mom said that when she woke up by your bedside and found you gone, she went into hysterics. They almost had to take her to the hospital. They gave her some Tylenol; she was sleeping in the house when Mom called. She's going to stay with Mom and Dad a few days.

I don't know that death is easy on anyone. I mean, there's Dad, who was the only one who cried at your bedside other than Shiao Yi. There's Uncle George - the stoic, casual, eldest son - who knows what he's thinking, he never approached your bedside. There's Aunt Jane, who took care of you with the dedication of a nun, but I don't know what she's thinking either. There's your wife who is beyond consolation. And then there's Mom who's stuck in the middle of all the grief, trying to hold a house together while working extremely late nights at work.

So what happens next? I really don't know. I guess I need to go out and buy some nice black clothes.

I miss you already, Grandpa. I remember being mad at you my whole life and now I can't remember what that felt like. I just think about you not being there when we're playing Mahjong and I get sad.

But you know, I'm so glad you got to meet Jason before you left. I don't feel like I contributed a lot to your life, but I hope you left knowing that I have a good man in my life. Granted, a good man that drives me up the wall and makes me consider murder, but a good man who can melt my heart and make me forgive him against my will with a simple apology and kiss. Your life will live on in us, Grandpa.

We love you.

Your loving grand-daughter,

Ting Ting

Because I Can't Figure Out How To Put The HTML Code Into My Sidebar

Check out my Flickr photos, you guys. I worked hard on them.

C'mon, GO NOW!

Death is only the beginning

Dear Grandpa,

Last night was probably the last time I will ever see you again. Jason and I drove to your hospital at 12:30 to join the rest of the family by your side. Your wife, Xiao Yi, welcomed me with the same gratitude and warmth she always does. I really love that woman, Grandpa. You did well when you married her.

Mom was quiet but smiling. She talked to Xiao Yi about Jesus and gave her hope for the future. Jen was tired; when I arrived, she couldn't remember what cup of coffee she was on. Dad was crying. I don't know what growing up under your household was like, but it couldn't have been so terrible because Dad never cries.

Mom and Dad told me not to come because anyone with a cold is not allowed in the Intensive Care Unit, but I hid my symptoms so I could come see you. We're family, after all. I didn't want you to open your eyes without me being there. I didn't want you to think I didn't care. I'll get over the cold.

I wish we would have been closer. I wish that I could recollect more than one conversation we've had, but the truth is, I think the only time we ever exchanged more than a sentence was in high school when I interviewed you about your war experiences for a paper. I remember being surprised at how involved you were. I remember feeling proud. I wish we could have talked more.

I was mad at you for a long time, Grandpa. I was mad at you for divorcing Grandma for horrible reasons, for hurting your family, for hurting Grandma. Every time I saw Grandma in her small apartment, so alone, biding away time on soap operas and her bird, I got angry with you. Every time she cried, I blamed you.

I was mad at you for messing up my Dad, too...for passing down your stubborness and your stoicism...for your dedication to facts and your neglect of faith. I blamed you every time my Dad didn't know how to love me, which was most of my life.

I'm not mad at you anymore, Grandpa. I release both of us from that anger. I just want you to know that we're going to miss you. It won't be the same. I've grown up my entire life with you around...always in the background, slurping dumplings and playing Mahjong with Xiao Yi, Mom, and Dad. Now that we'll be missing a player, Mom and Dad probably won't be playing for a while.

You probably know this, but it was Dad who made the decision to make you comfortable and let you go instead of using aggressive tactics to save you. We figured that's what you wanted since you kept pushing away the oxygen and ventilation tube.

It was hard seeing you so thin and frail, Grandpa. I saw the crook of your arm, purple and bruised from all the IV's, and I had to turn away. I've always figured you would be as strong as your stubbornness and mystery. Jen said that she didn't know that you wore dentures and didn't have any teeth. I didn't know that either.

I'm sorry you and Xiao Yi didn't get to move to Houston. You were SO close. I guess it just wasn't meant to be. But you know, this way we all get to be together one last time.

I wonder what you were thinking while you laid there, fighting for your breath but not for your life. I think we were all wondering the same thing. What does one think about when you're breathing your last breath, surrounded by your tearful family? Does your whole life flash in front of you like a movie? Or do you simply drift away as you acquiese your fate?

You made it to 94, Grandpa. 94. Not everyone can say that. I wish you could have stuck it out for 6 more years. Then you would have made the papers: "Century-old Chinese Man Still Going Strong!" Then maybe I could also have given you a great grandbaby. But at least Anna gave you great grandtwins. 94. That's still a great accomplishment.

Jason and I left at 5:00am. I'm so sorry that we left, but we stayed as long as we could. It's hard to get comfortable in a hospital when you're drowning in Nyquil and snot, but that seems like a pathetic excuse. Don't be sad or mad at me, okay? I'm carrying you in my heart for always.

No one has called me since we left, so I don't know how you're doing or if you're still here with us on earth. You were my first real emergency hospital visit and you'll be my first funeral. I wish it wasn't so, but you'll be alive in our family for a long time to come.

I love you, Grandpa. Sleep peacefully.

Your loving grand-daughter,

Ting Ting

Church Bulletins Gone Awry

As a copywriter and a Christian, I really appreciate the humor in these church bulletins, but you don't have to be either to get a laugh out of these.

The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.

The sermon this morning: "Jesus Walks on the Water."
The sermon tonight: "Searching for Jesus."

Our youth basketball team is back in action Wednesday at 8 PM in the recreation hall. Come out and watch us kill Christ the King.

Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands. (<-- my fav)

The peacemaking meeting scheduled for today has been canceled due to a conflict.

Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say "Hell" to someone who doesn't care much about you.

Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.

Miss Charlene Mason sang "I will not pass this way again," giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.

For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.

Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.

The Rector will preach his farewell message after which the choir will sing: "Break Forth Into Joy."

Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.

A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.

At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What Is Hell?" Come early and listen to our choir practice.

Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the
deterioration of some older ones.

Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.

Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.

The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.

Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.

The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.

This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.

Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. is done.

The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.

Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.

The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.

Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.

The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday: "I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours"