Jan. 23

One year ago on Jan. 23, Gregg and I got married for the first time. We had our Indian ceremony in Oregon, and I had a blog post all planned out for the ocassion, complete with some pics from the wedding and a few random highlights from a year of "wedded bliss." I guess it's a good thing that G and I got married twice.

Because this year, with life being the twisted thing that it is, Jan. 23 was really all about something else entirely. Early that morning, my mom called me to tell me that my paternal grandfather had passed away just hours earlier. It shouldn't have been a shock, but it was. He'd been deteriorating for weeks, but somehow seemed to be hanging in there and even getting better. And anyway, he was my grandfather, and I figured he was invincible. There's lots I could tell you about these last couple of weeks. Life certainly hasn't been uneventful. Me deciding to go to India. Me realizing that I probably shouldn't go to India. My dad rushing to get there. My mom discvoering the intricacies of the internet. So many things that would make for a more exciting/tragic/comic blog entry. But honestly I'd rather just tell you about my grandfather. My grandfather, who was one of my favorite relatives, and the first close relative that I've really lost.

In front of my grandparents' house in India, there is a little bench, and in the morning and evenings, that's where my grandfather would be. Watching everyone come and go. Waiting for friends to come by with the latest gossip or political arguments. I remember visiting when I was in college and going with him on his errands. We'd run to the bank or pharmacy or where ever he needed to go. And everywhere he went, he'd introduce me (you know, to the random bank tellers and street vendors), telling him how I was grand daughter, visiting from the states. And I went to Stanford. I'm sure they were all fascinated. I think it was on that trip that we took a pony cart home one evening because I'd never been on one, and he thought I'd get a kick out of it.

It might have been on that trip too that he got into a fight with some Australians at the bank. Like all Indians, he had no concept of standing in line, and cut in front of an Aussie couple. They took issue, and I had to hold my grandfather back a bit before it turned into an all out brawl. He kept telling them something in English, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was.
Sometimes, on those earlier trips, we'd go eat at a restaurant after doing whatever he needed to do, just because he liked having any excuse to eat out.

Though he had been getting frailer recently, he used to be a big man with a loud booming voice. He always had an opinion and loved to be right. I'd argue back every chance I got, and it seemed at times that nothing could make him prouder than have one of his granddaughters stand up to him. He valued intelligence and education, and was always interested in our jobs or daily lives. I remember I visited once right after I had come back from South America. I developed my trip pictures while in India. Some were from South America, some were of friends from home that I took to finish out the roll (back in the days of non-digital photography), My grandfather was fascinated by every single one. I think some might have involved some drunken friends but hopefully it wasn't that obvious.

But my favorite memories are the little things that I'll never quite remember exactly. The mornings sitting around with him while he sat in grungy old easy chair, telling me stories about something or other. I liked hearing of his travels or younger days, and he was always happy to oblige. It bugs me now that I can't really remember any of the details. Makes me wish I had taken a tape recorder and record every single conversation we'd ever had.

Always a character, and definitely never boring, there are lots of reasons why he was one of my favorite relative. He'll be so missed.

Speaking of crazy . ..

I'm back!! And I have to say, life hasn't been boring lately.

Work's been as annoying as always, but it does have its moments. Not related to the actual work of course. That's as frustrating as it always has been. But I've been realizing lately that as much as certain people bug me, I'd be sad if they left. The resulting drama is the only thing I have to live for during the week. The constant stories of U, who thinks its perfectly normal to be 30 and still supported by her parents are a source of constant fascination. Apparently it runs in the family. Her older sister (who is pregnant and whose life I know SO much about) recently got laid off, which of course sucks. U's response: apparently she told her sister to not worry about the day-to-day expenses of child rearing because of course her parents would help with all that. You know, those pesky things like diapers and food and clothing, which I imagine to be not a small amount? Not a problem when there are grandparents in the picture who will take care of it all. I'm not saying its wrong to ask for help if necessary. But to hear this girl talk, there'll never be a point when she plays adult and strikes out on her own. When unemployed, her parents have paid her rent (i.e. NOT just letting her move in with them which is a different thing entirely. But actually paying the rent on her SF apartment!).

OR there was that time when she was telling me she wanted to make baby food for her sister and was wondering how long it would stay good for. This must have been back in November. I thought maybe her sister had a baby already, but no, she's expecting in April. I had to point out that babies don't actually eat food for a good long while so wasn't it a bit early? I mean, I'm no expert or anything, but it seemed a bit early.

OR there was another time when she tried to explain to me how her car insurance was almost $4k a year because she was involved in one car accident that wasn't her fault and had gotten a speeding ticket way back when when all she was trying to do was get out of a scary LA neighborhood where she had been tutoring these poor little children who desperately needed a good role model (sounds like the cop didn't buy it anymore than I did). She sits right near me, so I can't tell you how often I find myself rolling my eyes when I talk to her.

THEN there's X, our very own resident psycho. Months ago, she approached my friend C and began to tell her about this stalker problem she's been having. Needless to say, C was a bit surprised to be approached and confided in at all since her longest interaction with Psycho occurred when X told her not to say "hey" to her because it was one of the lowest forms of greetings there is. Or during a horrible lunch early on when C asked about Psycho's plans for Thanksgiving only to be told to not pry into her personal life. Um, ok. This was before I started, so I didn't get to see it for myself.

Anyway, so believe me, it was a bit of a shock to be confided in, but since she was cornered in her office, C had no choice but to listen in morbid fascination. She tried to relay the conversation to me immediately after and couldn't even begin. But primarily it had to do with how Psycho had a stalker. She's been forced to move 3 times now because of her. But he always seems to find her because he knows that she likes to bike and looks for aparment buildings that are close to bike trails. So it sounds like he scopes out every single apartment building up and down the peninsula until he finds the one she's hiding out it in. His general purpose in stalking her is to give her AIDS. And he works towards this goal by conspiring with her neighbors. She hears them talking about her through her walls and knows when he's found her.

C, after days of wondering what to do with this info (besides telling me about it), decided to talk to our director. She didn't want to, but the several people she consulted thought it would be irresponsible not to. Even G when I told him all about at home. And who told me I couldn't blog about it. So C had a talk with our director, who it turned out was curious about the specifics but not at all surprised. Clearly he had already been approached by some one in the office.

THEN, a few weeks later, I got stuck at work. Remember my Caltrain fiasco where I ended up having to wait for the train for more than an hour and a half in the evening? Well, apparently Psycho and I were one of the few people still hanging around that day because she came by to chat. And told me all about her stalker herself. I gotta say, if I hadn't heard some of it already, I would have been creeped out. As it was, the only thing that kept me seated was the possibility for a good story. She told me about the AIDS. About how he conspires with her neighbors against her, and wins them over by having sex with them. And gives them such amazing O's that they don't care if he has AIDS. He has a daughter who wants Psycho to be her new mommy. (It's a family stalker situation, I guess). And it was getting to be frustrating because the night before she couldn't even leave her apartment to take her dog out because he was outside in the bushes waiting for her. I wanted to ask about her poor dog (who apparently had been sitting around in the apartment all day and hadn't been out to pee or anything). BUT, there was good news. She's sure that the police are taking her seriously now because they've been following her in order to build their case against him (following HER, I know, makes a lot of sense, right? But seriously, you wouldn't have asked any questions either if you'd been in my shoes). Actually she went for a walk that afternoon and heard a lot of sirens around so she figured it must have been the cops tailing her, although in San Jose she's not sure. Its with the San Mateo police that she's filed her case. She's been in touch with the DA's office there too. Dude, there was a lot more, I'm pretty sure but I couldn't remember it all if my life depended on it. Let's just say it was more in the same vein. And maybe for a second, it seemed plausible. I mean, sure, having a stalker isn't entirely unheard of. But the more she talked about it, the more clear it became that at least 75% of it all is in her head. I picture this loony lady harassing the DA's office with made up stories that they have no idea what to do with. Cops that have stopped responding to her calls. I don't know or maybe that's all in her head too, who knows.

This must have gone on for almost a half hour and would have gone on indefinitely if my phone hadn't rang. I said I had to answer it and she left. It was our director wanting to see if I needed any help extricating myself from the conversation. Oh yah, did I mention his office is right outside mine, so he must have heard at least part of all this?

Since then, although I don't have any more updates on where its at with the staker now, Psycho's been a pretty good source of entertainment. So more next time . . .