So. Been a long time.

I'm not sure why, maybe b/c I've been so busy with nonsense like Twitter and Facebook, so my narcissistic self-advertisement needs have been satisfied.

Things I'd meant to write about: going to the cemetery for yet another funeral (I seem to know a lot of dead people lately), and stopping at my grandparents' graves, which probably haven't been visited since, oh, the last millennium when my mother was still alive. I was with my brother. The marker grave was a name that sounded quite a bit like the Russian for "little dog." As we drove out of the cemetery, I saw the marker grave. "Stop!" I yelled, and my brother and I went in search. And found the graves in question a few minutes later.

As we finally drove away, we noticed the marker indicating the group that had bought the plots: something about a Worker's Bund. "Look at all we've lost," my brother said. Which was what I'd been feeling as well.