Was replying to the lovely Lauren (kicks ass, highly recommend ;) and realized that I really need to bite the bullet and just write about my trip to North Carolina. Charlotte. That's slightly shorter to type. *nods*

It went better than I expected, but mostly it was just different than I expected. I think being away from them for so long, it sort of distorted my ideas of what that part of my family is like and how I get along with them. Or maybe it's just time. There were a lot of reminders of how long we'd been gone, though never any voiced. It was the spouse you'd never met, the child you didn't know.

Great example: we get to the hotel and my dad tells me, Your cousin Stephanie is staying here too. I'm like, okay sure. I get up for breakfast the next morning, first one up, and take the elevator down to the lobby. I got in the elevator and there's a couple and a little girl. The guy and the little girl were casual- jeans, t-shirt- and the woman was wearing kind of a nice dress, which seemed a little odd to me. But the little girl was small enough that I smiled and did faces to make her smile till I get off. They walked out and I had breakfast. I went to the wake, the funeral, then we drive out to the burial site and- I know that dress! - it's the lady from the elevator. I was standing right next to Stephanie and didn't have a clue. In my defense, she didn't recognize me either.

But that's how it was. I'd never met her husband, or her daughter Hailey (and soon-to-be daughter, Addison) I'd never met my cousin Stevie's wife Rachel. It was weird. And yes, my uncle was lazy and named his kids Steven and Stephanie. My uncle Steve.

My uncle Steve. He was supposed to pick us up from the airport on Wednesday, but never showed up. My dad had called him earlier, before we left for our flight, and gotten kind of a weird reply from him- I shouldn't be talking right now. I'm at the hospital. Don't tell Karen (my mom) My dad thought something had happened to my grandma so he didn't tell my mom.

My uncle Steve had a heart attack. He was in the ER when my dad called. It had been bothering him for a couple days, and thank god he was in a hospital when it happened, but- They put a stint in (stint? shunt? I can never remember) and then he had two random seizures so they wouldn't let him leave for the funeral (he did come to the burial) Funny thing was his wife. My aunt Carol is alarmingly obsessed with Tony Stewart- I, on the other hand, just had to Google to see if it was 'Stuart' or 'Stewart'. She lives in orange (he's the Home Depot car) She has an orange Tony Stewart room, an orange car, an orange TS phone complete with engine ring tone and TS's mother's phone number. Apparently they're friends o.0

She wore orange to the funeral. Bright orange. Woman looked like she was dressed for a cruise.

Funny thing is that's exactly what my hairdresser told me to do when I said I was going to a funeral- I only wear bright colors- red, orange- it's depressing enough, might as well be fun.

I wore black. And navy teal. Major concession, I know, but paisley! Paisley's not depressing?

My brother the giant (I swear, southern people are TINY- he looked like the Jolly Green fricking Giant walking around. Up here he's not even the tallest person in our family!) he decided to dress for his first semi-formal/bar mitzvah. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I saw him wearing *pants* so it was a vast improvement, but still. Someone actually thought *I* was older than *him*. My brother is 29 and I've been mistaken for being younger than my 13 year old student.

Yeah. Wrap your brain around *that* one.

*giggles* He was so tall. Seriously, I always knew my mom's family was short (I'm as tall as some of the men at 5'6") but *everyone* was shorter than Tom. My theory: snow. Not sure how to explain that except the not-drowning in it aspect (I had a very short dog. During the winter we had to dig paths for him in the snow otherwise he couldn't go anywhere, it was above his he-) There! We have to be taller than the snow *nods* All makes perfect sense.

My new dog, now dog, Bailey, had to stay at a kennel while we were gone, but my aunt brought her dogs. She just got two little Yorkie puppies and they were too young to get their shots so she couldn't kennel them. Max and Murphy. Two and four pounds. Bailey? 72 pounds. Yeah. I had so much fun with them, though. I taught Max how to go down the stairs and how to stand up. My aunt Cheryl called me 'such a mother'- I was :) I would say, Babies!, and they'd run over to me, stand up and give me kisses. I train em well ;)

*sighs*

And that concludes the happy or even remotely funny parts of my trip to Charlotte. I don't really want to write about the sad stuff, but I probably should. I'm just not very good at it. So many of you *are* good at this- putting down basic things, sad things, stuff that doesn't involve silliness or smiley faces. That isn't me.

...

It was hard seeing my grandmother. She was a wreck. In the middle of everyone fluttering around, she was so quiet and small, you would almost forget she was there. Except. Everything we did was for her. I know my aunt and uncles, my mom, everyone, they were all going through grief, but my grandma was just falling to pieces, she had been for a long time. She doesn't trust people much anymore, a mixture of age and genuine reason (careworkers stole a substantial amount of money from her for my great grandmother, and my uncle Brian is a leech (I'm 24, and I *just met him*)) Thankfully, and inexplicably, she trusts us- my parents, my brother and I - so we did everything we could while we were there. Tom was pretty sick, but he was her constant companion, sitting and talking with her while they watched TV. I cleaned, as much as I could, organized and helped with errands. My parents did everything, but mostly they caught her up on bills. With both of them being sick and not really trusting people, stuff had really piled up. It should be okay now- everything is organized and up to date -and Stevie (lives nearby) is going to keep an eye on her, help out. He's a really good guy.

He also works for Mac. And drives a Prius. But the Prius squee fest will have to wait because that one little paragraph took an alarming amount out of me. I think it's time for bed.

Thanks :) I'll write about the whole thing later, but I didn't get the job. I called today to set up an interview and found out they 'had all the staff they needed' Bastards. Would've been an *awesome* job - close, good hours, good pay, employee discount (did I mention the anthropologie-esque boutique they're opening?)

Oh well. I did get to reschedule the Blackhawk artists so I have that on Thursday. The BHA are an elite group of female artists in the Fort area (my mom's museum is in Fort)
They only have 13 members so no one new comes in until someone leaves. The jury is to choose a new member so I have to present a few pieces, talk about myself, blah blah blah. I don't expect to get it, but it's still a major honor.

Oh Anna, I'm so sorry about your grandfather. I hope your mom is doing okay. I can't imagine how upset she must be.
Also, I hope you didn't lose your job.
I apologize for taking so long to get on here and read this and reply to it.