This morning I was in Duluth. This morning feels like a week ago. My weekend is a blur. Why do I do this to myself?

Oh yeah! So I can wake up and wonder where all the blood came from. Now I remember!

I spent the weekend in Duluth, taking advantage of a cheap room at the Holiday Inn. Of course, this was infinitely stupid considering my sister lives in Duluth and I ended up sleeping not at the hotel on Saturday.

My thoughts are a little disjointed, so allow me to apologize now for this scattered post.

I went out with people from Tower on Saturday night. I drank ten beers before Ang and I even made it to the bars, which is juuuust about twice as many as I usually enjoy during the “pre-party” portion of evenings with Angie. That was my first mistake. My second mistake was putting cans of beer in my purse before walking to the bar. My third mistake was whipping out one of those cans of beer at RT’s. My fourth mistake? Trying to show off by slamming beers. Fifth mistake: vodka Red Bull. After that, all the mistakes were forgotten.

That extra can of beer did come in handy for the walk from the Pioneer that isn’t the Pioneer anymore to RT’s…until I dropped it, at which point we had to move on.

But you would think getting drunk at RT’s would be perfect since I was staying at the Holiday Inn, which is just across the street, right? Yes, it would have been perfect, BUT I decided to go to Tim’s place. Why? Why did I walk to Tim’s place and Mayo walk to my sister’s? We switched teams. Why do walks seem like the world’s greatest idea when I’m drunk?

That boy’s cat is satan and ripped me up badly and I woke up at 8:30 Sunday morning to the cat crouching under the coffee table hissing at me. I recalled Tim mentioning that it was very, very bad when the cat crouched under the table and hissed, and I couldn’t find both of my socks, but I decided I valued my eyeballs more than my cute pair of camouflage socks. Walking out of someone’s home and having absolutely no idea where you are is one of the better feelings in the world, let me tell you, and I was glad that I navigated my way back to the hotel without incident despite the fact that I was apparently in the ghetto. Angie thought I got dead, as she did the day before. Sometimes she just cares too much.

Go look at flickr for some pictures. You’ll like them, I bet.

When I came home after work today, my cat’s voice box was broken. It’s a dream come true. He goes through the motions, but no sound comes out…not that his annoying meows were half as bad as the devil cat's HISSING.

This week I hear back about the job I interviewed for!

And, Gram? I really, REALLY hope you can't see the shit I do.

Finally, I had a hole in the ass of my pants that I stapled shut today. Sadly, this isn't the first time I have stapled shut holes in my clothing.

A couple of hours ago, my dad called and told me my grandma had fallen down the stairs. At 94, this is obviously a cause for concern, but the first thing I thought was that she was trying to put another crack in the wall with her skull. You can only brag up one cracked wall for so long.

Dad called about fifteen minutes later to say Gram had died. A blood vessel burst in her brain as a result of the fall.

She was ninety-four years old, lived alone and her biggest physical ailment was a nearly complete inability to hear. She was lucky enough to have a daughter in town visiting when she fell, so she wasn't alone. She died either in the ambulance or when she arrived at the hospital. The details are secondhand and sketchy, but either way, Gram is gone.

She has been saying for a while now (oh, fourteen years or so) that she wants to die, which my dad thinks is not the truth. She went quickly and of course it bothers me that I was not able to say goodbye, but it makes me so happy that right now she is with Grandpa and Mary and Marlene and Uncle L and everyone else who is near and dear to her that has passed on.

I'm kind of at a loss at what I should do now. Cry, sure. I went for a walk and prayed by the baseball field, which made me feel a little better. It's always difficult for me to comprehend when someone dies that the person will never feel the rain again, never feel the heat of the sun. I read 90 Minutes in Heaven last week and have found it rather comforting. It's weird to have so many thoughts, yet have no idea which direction to point my body in.

But, I'm sure Vida, that crazy old lady, knows that she will be dearly missed. The flow of memories and the celebration of her amazing life has already started, and I look forward to hearing new stories and getting to know Gram a little bit better even if I can't let her kick my ass in rummy anymore.

Thanks for the love and the laughs, Gram. Please don't keep too close of an eye on me from up there because you will be terribly, sorely, sadly disgusted. I hope there is plenty of Diet Pepsi and Wheel of Fortune and rummy up in heaven. We're sure as hell going to miss you.