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AussieAri's weblog
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last modified Dec 22, 2001 at 22:31
Getting an emergency ride into town with churl from a guy who posted on Freecycle Santa Fe.
God. I pray the cat's ok. I'm freaking out about it.
What would be your preferred method of execution?
I'd get shoot.
Pic update.
According to Dan, being kissed, particularly abruptly, cures hickups better than all that drinking water between your legs, honey on a spoon under the tongue stuff.
Stuff On My Cat.com i will be submitting a pic of Percy with carrot on head too.
We Are Robots.com has funny flash and even a tendertron that i'm sure i've seen around town.
day_on_earth has some windows to other worlds.
non ugly lesbians has lots of mean girls and good looking gay wanna be's.
hello my gental readership.
Currently snowed in at Superland (the queer women's commune churl lives in, between santa fe and eldorado). We are both very glad she moved out of her little cabin here and into the main house.
Snow. yes. Endless snow waist deep in parts and still persistant in its falling. No one's been down the road and churl's faithful civic is now very stuck in a ditch at the bottom of the hill where as last night it was simply parked there since the hill was unconquerable.
I've never seen anything like this before anywhere. It's a vision of what a nuclear winter to come might be.
I have now had my first adventures in shovelling snow. It can be decent excercise. I had to stop myself from laughing uncontrollably at how absurd everything looked with this amount of snow on it. I had this niave idea that i could maybe shovel enough to get to the main road, or about even shovelling around churl's car to get it to a side road. That would be right up there with any of Hurcules' tasks.
Really i'm just worried about getting back to my house in town to take care of the cat. Also, there's churl's food stock to worry about. She bartered for some eggs for me (ain't she great?). It's not like we're going to run out- but her being mostly vegan, it's just not my regular diet. For a few minutes i start to think about what i can make a sling out of, that maybe i should have continued my habit of carrying mine.
I shouldn't start thinking those ends of civilization thought just yet though.
Caitlin R Kiernan
Summer In Mykonos
Girl Throw
Modern Tales
Donna Barr
Paul Berge
How Loathsome
Cathrin Doherty
Ellen Forney
All Thumbs
T-Gina
Tales Of The Closet
Shoujo-ai Canada
Venus Envy
I Like Girls
From The Cellar
Nowhere Girl
Pudge
Sequence
Tranzilla
Associated Student Bodies
The Rap Canterbury Tales
er...So i feel like we could show a thing or two to the new leswiki.
What a waste
Fuck fuck fuck fuck! FUCK!
They’re telling me that because the cosmetic damage done to my bike by the crash is more to replace than the value of the bike they’re going to write it off, buy it from me and bye bye my motorcycle!
FUCK FUCK FUCK!
Fuck! Fuck!
Fuck!
Back to shopping for a 95’ Red Magna Delux again?! Fucking ridiculous! They’re all out in the boonies! They’re HARD TO FIND!
FUUUUCCCKKK!
oh...my..god..
they are so cute i nearly peed my pants and exploded!
Jill is volunteering at the Espanola wildlife center and they got these little’uns in. A farmer killed the mother that charged him and then he found the cubs. When Jill gets back i'll hopefully be able to go with her to visit them and a baby bobcat.
Crap. Wher’mah gonna find a yamacha before Hanukkah in the High Desert?
I crashed my motorcycle (the big magna) on Sat. I’m fine. Deep bruises. Bike flipped, I bailed from it and did the same. Fuck you black ice. It snowed two weeks ago. You have no business being anywhere right now. Bike is in the shop getting an insurance estimate done. No damage to the engine but there’s a lot around the handlebars and a little on the right side.
You know my cat? Percy? 14 years old and asthmatic? Well after an agonizing three day stint at the vets we’ve now discovered he’s also DIABETIC.
Yes. Kitty insulin injections daily to follow and a bill larger than any medical bill I’ve ever had for myself.
Otherwise? I ain’t complaining. I’m to bloody frightened to.
The Brooklyn gay clubs (Metropolitan and Catty Shack) were just fun but as Dan said of the mating dance between any numbers of sexes and persons there “They fuck with each other mentally first then they go home and fuck each other.’ Never thought I’d be so happy with the SF dating scene in comparison. Ha!
I’m really not that introverted – that is as long as I’ve got at least one friend along. My stories are on my lips, my attention for whoever cares to take it. I so rarely met anyone when out and about alone. The gay men here, they love me. I’ve never gotten so many compliments from guys before. Jezus. Maybe some new hot European model has my jaw line; maybe my ‘look’ is in. In fact, one of those same gay men who billed himself as ‘the king of Brooklyn’, wreaking of D&G, and sporting Armani wanted me to carry his baby. I had no idea dyke bars in Brooklyn were where self-appointed royalty looks for worthy receptacles for their heirs. But then, I also didn’t know it was a safe place for a hesid to hang and drink alone because no one he knows would ever be there, or for a homophobic man to work out his attraction to other men. Phew. Monday night folks. This place is crazy and it makes me crazy too. Oh, and one of the open mic performers stormed off stage at the beginning of the night because of a joke a co-worker of her in the crowd told while she was tuning up her guitar. Guess she used to be a nun and pedophilic priest jokes aren’t that funny to her.
Na, but I did met some nifty people, even felt like I connected with one. Of course she wasn’t from there.
You know what? NYers can’t take the calm, the slow and the silent.
Went to a pizza dive for the ‘real Brooklyn experience’. Slices were refereed to as ‘greasahs’. When Bret asked if he could smoke inside the swarthy Italian bloke said ‘I don give a fahk! Go ahead!’
Hunting the great wild Suburban Cougars my friend!
Dutch Boys- Gay men that hang around Dykes
Now as for dykes that hang around gay boys, someone help me out with a logical word deduction. Lesdyxics maybe?
Public Enemy is played the closing show of Club Alagria on Friday. On the one hand, another Santa Fe Nightclub bites the dust in a record 6 months this time. To be honest i didn't even end up going there.
Oh the other hand...Wow. Like Xtel said, It's like...like seeing The Beatles!!
(Please to sing the first lines with a zombie voice while wearing a Santa hat, the ones in parenthesis with a Shirley Q. Liquor voice):
“Unfuckable…that’s what you are. (Shoot- That’s a face only a mother could love)
Unfuckable… nearsighted or far. (I wish I was blind. Hoo—eee!)
like an emo song that clings to me (and scars and stings me)
How the though of you does ugly things to me (*groan* I feel sick.)
Never before has someone been more unfuckable (Ahhhh!)
In every way (God, get it off'a me!)
And forever more that’s how you’ll stay. (plastic surgery ain’t even a help girl!)
That’s why darling it’s incredible (make it stop!)
that someone so unfuckable (brainzzzz!!!…*screaming*)
Thinks that I am unfuckable too. (hey there handsome)”
“NO matter how hot you are, no matter how rich, how smart, how cool you are, somebody, somewhere, is sick of your SHIT.” –Jaeger Ayers of Finder.
GUD = Geographically UnDesirable
FUD = Family UnDesirable
Love many, trust a few,
and always paddle your own canoe.
Promise little but do much.
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance
“I schtupped to her level.”
“Schtup me if you’ve heard this one before…Knock, knock.”
Does EMDR have any connection with hypnosis?
Air freshener on a well trimmed downtown hotel’s topiary. ‘Black Ice’ scent.
DRIVE THRU sign with 'R' and 'V' knocked out.
The Hold Steady
Matisyahu
Andre Williams
Borat- Deleted Scenes
Being a vegetarian turns your bones green.
If your poop floats it is healthy.
Saw the Bodies exhibit in Manhattan. Things that really caught my attention were: The vein structure of the Jejunum and Teratoma (which may very well be a form of Immaculate conception for all).
Myspace for Comic people.
On the streets and in the clubs of Brooklyn I met many a people that I was connected to through less than 3 degrees of separation. Phew. Who knew the city was so small? Well so few are natives and in Brooklyn they’ll actually talk to you.
Point in case: Oceanographer was a band I listened to after I stopped through Denton on the way back to Santa Fe one summer and saw their sticker at a local coffee shop. Nautilus spirals get me every time. Their lead singer was sitting outside a bar with his dog. His new band is called Jeremy Goken and the last rounders. Spiff.
What I truly can’t abide by in NYC is peeing. No- not the human urea on the street but the PROBLEM when you need to pee. Most places won’t let you if you don’t buy something and then a lot of places don’t even have facilities available. Besides, fluttering your eyelashes just to get into a restroom does not work. Do NYers run home to go to the loo each time?
P.S. NYers don’t know the meaning of the word ‘spice’ except for a few people in Chinatown and little India.
Other realization: I think I probably look better in clubbing (red or dim) light. I think everybody does. That’s what it’s there for right?
I stare at this picture as I lick gelato back in Santa Fe. And that’s STILL what it fells like in Italy yo.
‘Nice to see,
nice to hold,
if it’s broken,
consider it sold!’
Dr. and Mr. Doris Haggis-On-Whey, of the Haggis On Whey World of Unbelievable Brilliance
She has shame, I’ve got guilt.
So at least we can help point it out in each other.
“Well I’m glad you’ve joined the 19th century again!”
Feck. You know what makes me want to be immortal? Simply the paperwork my inheritor will have to go through when I DO die. It just goes on and on…
Let the running from place to place instead of walking, large furry hat wearing, lesbian social hibernation, long dark nights, hot tub wrangling, griping the engine mount with my legs, split bare days, thermal loving, plastic sheets on windows, indoor tiny farmer markets, ski bunny hopping, gallons of stew making, cider and mead mulling, mass quantity of tea consuming, season begin.
Can’t find bar. Suitable bar. Big Bar. Solid bar. Holds more alcohol than my place full of guests could ever desire to drink bar that will hurt you if you fuck with it bar. Thinking of making on in the image of the old, expandable, sturdy and spacious one Bill had.
Um… so about a month ago I ordered a Sjambok from some knife and weapons company catalogue. Anyway… now I’m receiving all kinds of catalogues for lumberjack gear and chewing tobacco. Seriously…I am not that butch. I do not need a hand painted rotating saw blade. And if I smoked with any regularity it would be a pipe thank you very much.
Hey…anyone ever get nose cancer from snuff? Hum…on second thought, maybe a brass spittoon would add to my bachelorette pad.
BMW’s new MZ4. droooool.
Dude! Got free crème brulée from 315! They were full up and i said ‘really I’m just here from crème brulée’ and since there was no where to sit I asked if there were some way they could do it to go. The waiter wouldn’t hear of me eating it outside in the cold night nor would he put it in a large tin to go pan thus making it a crème blap. So he asks if I can return the dish tomorrow, I ask when they open tomorrow and 15 min later just as I’ve decided that yes, the bartender is someone who worked at the old nighclub with me, the waiter thrusts a crème brulées filled dish in a to go pan into my hand and says, “There you are, no charge. Enjoy your crème brulée.’
And I sit here filled with eggy crème fraisey goodness thinking to myself, ‘Is it just me or does my town love me? Will things like this happen anywhere else?’ My ability to get free stuff or next to free in this town is damn amazing at this point. Which is to say nothing of the possibility of working completely on a barter system here. I feel like I’ve some sort of mastery of it. Master of the destiny of free stuff or something. Of course, I’ve also been thinking what I did to prompt the free dessert, did he like the look of me? Has he seen me cry? Did I have a drunken confiding conversation with him years ago after dancing my arse off? Did I give him exceptional customer service at the meat counter? Get him out of trouble as a security guard?
Like I was going to ask.
Santa Café:
The crème brulée was definitely the freshest and richest and the one that made me want to chunder the most because of this. The Tahitian Vanilla they used could have been stronger to bring out more flavor between the heavy crème and egg that had a soup like consistency. I had elements of being both very good and then very bad.
315:
A stiffer much more yolky crème brulée. The vanilla was stronger but not the same quality as say Santa Café’s. Pretty good stuff.
Café Paris:
Lighter than 315’s but the flavor was even weaker. Still pleasant.
Casa Sena:
Absurdly small and expensive but good. It runs the delicate middle ground of equal proportions of egg and cream but isn’t runny. They will add a little spice to the sugar on top if you like.
Halloweenie time and I bust out in total fem for this once a year freak-out. This time it was in the form of a very large and stiff tutu. Here’s the proof. It was a little hard for me to squeeze my chest into the ballerina thing and my boobs were almost too big.. I was not made to do ballet obviously. The dance at Wise Fool kicked arse, almost everyone was milling around swaying if not boogying to the music. Fun abounded, the crowd changed but was always a crowd. I saw people I hadn’t seen in ages. I got grabbed into the center of a dance circle by a drag bride and asked to go on point. What? I don’t know how! And then I find myself doing it. Hol-ey shit! I wish I had trimmed my big toe nail because as it bent back it hurt like fuck.
Costumes of note that night: a little skunk, a beaver, a soft ball dyke with baseball smashed through skull, Olive Oil and Popeye, Dr. Mal Practice, Gilligan, the members of the blue man troop.
Next year how can I top it? A mermaid maybe? My little pony? She-Ra? Dorothy? Give me your glorious femmy suggestions for a costume I would look utterly frightening in.
P.S. I will not go as Shirley Temple or Betty Boop on moral grounds.
On the way back to Santa Fe, on the last leg up 285 from the formidable tourist trap called Clines Corners (be sure to buy Corrizozo cider there folks), my head thrust between the handlebars, chest to the gas tank and arms sticking out like crazy crow wings thinking, “I can’t…I can’t believe I am leaving this behind!” It made me want to cream my pants and run screaming for joy into the hills, mesas and arroyos all around me. Fuck. I have to leave the home I chose and the place that keeps me. 3 months or 6? Will either make it any easier? If I stay to see the days become warmer it won’t be easier that’s for certain.
In the mean time, I got myself a cute little apartment. Adobe, Vegas, good view of the sunset, private yard, and driveway just off of Agua Fria. Neighbors I know from years ago who worked at the club with me.
God I need help with decorating. Come to me decorating fairies!
Headed out of Santa Fe towards Lubbock, on my way to Austin. Why did I go to Austin? Before the weather got too cold for biking in any thing other than heated gear I figured I better see about my future. And why is my future in Austin Texas? Because as you may know, I’ve wanted to make swords since highschool. Who is the best swordsmith I’ve found and known about for years on this little blue globe? Daniel. So knowing I have no desire to return to academia and those terminally academic peers of mine, off I go.
And now let me tell you about a university splat shat in the planes of west Texas called Texas Tech. My friend Hillah goes to TT because..well…they pay her and she can become a prof. at the age of 23. Otherwise the deal isn’t sweet. There are these girls that live in her dorm. Their nicknames are Lexus and Mercedes. It will become obvious why in a second here. During the first week of school these debutant bow heads turned up at their dorm info desk and asked
“So where’s the butler?”
“What?”
“Don’t you have a number for the butler, I need some stuff brought to me.”
“There are NO butlers services on campus.”
“Oh my god! What the hell? Well when will our dry cleaning and laundry get back?”
“What do you mean laundry?”
“You know, there that laundry shoot in the dorm room and we put our cloths down it.”
“…uh, that’s a garbage disposal shoot”
So these princesses get into the garbage room and went romping around for what was probably their spring Armani and Gucci sets. There are some things princesses are willing to get dirty for, you’ve got to keep in mind. It’s as if everything I hate about Texas was born on its western planes, face as blank and stupid as the sky out there.
Anyway…I saw a shop called Jessie Jane’s. Would have gone in but with that many crosses around it I figured they were warding off more than they were drawing in on purpose. I really liked Santa Anna though. Cute town where you’d sit on the wood porch and drink lite beer and talk about the new traffic signal they’re installing down the road.
In Austin, the area around my eyes sunburnt from my helmet visor, my hair squished into a dirty blond mess atop my head and covered in bug guts. This is clearly a good look for the Ani concert I will attend that night.
Good god I swear I single handedly splatted out several species of insect life on this trip. The worst was flying into a swarm of ladybugs. They’re my favorite kind of bug and they go plap when you hit them at 70 and leave huge gooey trails across anything they’ve hit. The second worst was what I guessed must have been a moth migration on the way to TRF. Pap-pap-pap! and all you can do is squint your eyes and hold your breath because these suckers can get up in your helmet. Bug guts were a theme this trip. I am afraid to clean my leathers it was so bad yo.
Back to Ani. Googely Moogely there was all sorts of women in the house that night! Apparently the IDKE had attracted many out of towners and Ani makes them all come out of the woodwork anyway. I get a beer. It’s a Shinner and it tastes like water and I don’t feel a thing. This is what happens when you come down from 7000ft. Unfortunately it absolutely dumped and Stabbs happens to be a great venue if it’s clear weather as usually (not on your life) and if you’re 5’11” like my friend Rasa (but for her GF and I it’s like paying $35 to listen to a live recording one time). Ani’s pregnant, her shows are shorter. She may have to resort to wearing sweat pants because as pants become more of a problem I’m sure there won’t always be someone in the crowd to throw her a pair of suspenders.
IDKE. Hot daym. There weren’t this many women at BOSTON PRIDE people! I only got to see the Friday night performance and once again if you’re simply lip synching unless you’re got an outrageous amazing costume, are doing acrobatics, break dancing, magic or other tricks you are really not that entertaining. Well I had propped myself up on a side beam stuck out from the wall above crowd lever and had a great view of the stage but a face full of everyone’s cigarette smoke. With my sinuses already rocking two base drums I had to leave early.
Next day out to TRF from Austin (it’s about 3 hours, don’t be fooled by mapquest) as soon as I’m in the gates I start stalking around for the Angel Swords shop. Nothing interests me or stops me but figuring out where it is on this land. I walk right in, shoot the shit about the Flying Foxes (they’re now mine BTW) and talk to Daniel for the first time in 5 years. Things get rolling, I sleep on the shop floor and stick around for another day. I see people I knew from Scarby, catch the better shows at the faire, and have an enjoyable talk about furs with a fur trader. A certain shop boy is encouraged to accompany me around the faire. Now while paying someone attention can boost their ego (which he was in need of) I’m not sure if it broadens their mind (which he desperately needed) or makes them realize they’re not getting anywhere near your pants just because they insist on buying you lunch but really BECAUSE YOU’RE A FLAMING FEMALE FAGGOT (which is the truth of the matter). Ok, sorry about that… you see it’s been a long time since men nonchalantly yet mercilessly hit on me like I’m some sword wielding pixie-ish hetero dream. Yech. Only at a ren faire I tell you. The other bikers, truckers, gas station attendants and hobos from the trip left me with only a comment or two and that’s ALL. I’m use to being polite yet gruff and not blurting out what I believe is obvious and most of the time semi interested guys are set straight, regardless of how drunk or desperate they are. I had also forgotten how dense men can be when they see something they really like and their eyes get a sparkling and dilated and they take politeness as weakness and any other gesture but an out right put down as encouragement. Damn you rougishness masquerading as chivalry. I really could have used that old pin I got my first year at Lilith Faire, “Sorry boys, I’m Gay!” but this is the ren faire world and in the real world my friend Jesse needs this pin on a daily basis, not I. I resolve to gift it to her when I return.
I get invited to the Forge in Driftwood, come put in a free day of labor. Sure! I jump at the chance. I like it so much I do it another day though I probably shouldn’t have for the time schedule of this trip. I get one rosewood slap handle to a Buccaneer done, one other glued up and a third with the beginning of shape to it. Oh you know I’m so proud of myself I don’t give a damn if gods came down and told me I couldn’t do this, wouldn’t make it. I’d just grin at them and keep grinding. Yes this is what’s considered the easiest and lowest grunt work. Uh-huh-uh!
Other things that happen on the trip: Sinuses. Arg! As bad as two months ago with the little yellow fucking flowers here. It was bad and I was not alone as Rasa was suffering too. I’m told the general humidity sets off a lot of people’s allergies. Rolling Stones play the park two blocks behind her house, Mellissa Ferrick played to a different crowd than Ani yet still large crowd of women, I visit ‘the mother ship’ Whole Foods, Austin, and feel my brain leek out my eyes and ears as I get lost and overwhelmed in the store. Spent wonderful time with old friends and got to reconnect with Kevin. I meet the SGI Buddhist of Austin. Wow. What character. I always meet such people of good and distinctive character when I go to SGI meetings. They’re all so enthusiastic. I think southern Baptists refer to this sort of thing as ‘being filled with the spirit’. I eat crab out of the shell for the first time ever. They are my one crustacean exception and I usually avoid this whole physical experience by eating crab cakes. Crack splat. While it tasted good it’s one of those foods you question the value of given the effort to prepare. Combine that with my already ‘cockroach of the ocean’ prejudices and I’ll take endoskeleton next time thanks.
Home again home again. I’m doing my usual insanity thing going for Santa Fe in a day to surprise Kate on her birthday at the lil bit show that night. I take a wrong turn in Lubbock (curse you!) and end up losing the key to my bike out of the ignition as I’m riding in the dark out of Melrose to Fort Sumner. I’m stuck in Fort Sumner overnight and pissed as all hell that I can’t fix this problem myself. Give me a god damn blank and a file, I could have made the key myself but the closest locksmith was in CLOVIS and would only drive out in the morning. And of course by morning my battery is dead. I try to chill the fuck out, eat something (I hadn’t all day) and change my plans for working at the comic shop tomorrow. ___ towing really realy helped me out with the battery. The guy filled it with acid for me, charged it and brought it back to me. It looked like I was going to have to drive back to Clovis to get a new one but after a ride to the gas station to tank up with towing guy following the bike kept its charge. A miracle! He didn’t charge me a dime, just waved me on my way and told me to call if I had problems again. Maybe he felt sorry for this peeved little woman who, if she had had certain tools or the tools she has back home in Santa Fe, might not have been so stuck in a town who’s claim to fame is Jessie James’ supposed grave. I need to see if hallmark has biker ‘thank you’ cards.
Found myself a nice little place (just in time to move from Santa Fe of course)! No fireplace but god it’s nice. Pics coming soon.
My mum and aunt talking about what songs to play at the funeral:
“What other songs shall we have?”
“How about Advance Australia Fair?”
“No, I never liked it.”
“Well then God Save The Queen.”
“Oh get out with you! You knew that would rile me.”
Is it bad when the Walgreens photo machine says:
“Please insert media into the appropriate slot.”
and you have to THINK about it?
Ripped through Winterson’s latest, Weight. Enjoyed it much more than Art and Lies. It is much less veiled and hangs together with much more strength while keeping with her usual sensitivity and sensibilities. What I found most amusing was that she cast Hercules (my least favorite Greek hero of all time) as THE Australian Barbarian. Right mate? Ok, ok, yes, fair dinkum. Where else are you going to find a raping, murdering, pillaging, swilling, intellectually and morally vacant, piss into the wind, heap of hairy man muscle these days?
“A jack off of all trades and a masturbator of none.” – Churl.
Restlessness rolls in with the falling leaves and ping ponging weather. What am I going to do? Try to volunteer as an EMT, continue with creative projects, find myself a place to bed down for the winter with ideally a) fireplace b) covered parking c) laundry facilities. But really? a) non crazy people on the property/land lord b) under $700 incl. util. c) an alternative to simply renting a boxy fabricated apartment d) warm e) quiet.
Looking for a studio/duplex/guesthouse/detached in the Fe I once again I raise my fist in anger at gentrification. Seems since the market is so inflated (think Boston prices on real estate, I’m not kidding) rich people are looking to RENT instead of buy here. Hence any modest equipped casitas are going for $1000+ a month. I’m not saying they aren’t nice casitas but of course the rest of us end up in houses below standard code.
Let me show you the Santa Fe charm, right? Spend a winter with me. Why do you think this is the land that grew the penatente? Ill equipped greenhorns with greenbacks.
Huckleberry Funk
Uh, so I uh, finally got that tattoo. Got Kate a matching one as her b-day present.
“So how do you like the permanent mark I put on your fiancée?” -Ari
“I think it looks cool! She said you got the pussy small version of it.” -Chris
“Hey!” *Ari pulls out her baggy pants and looks down them at her tattoo* “It’s not THAT small!” -Ari
“Great…another Santa Fe business that thinks we’re girlfriends!” –Kate, directly after getting our matching tattoos.
(In the tradition of The Devil’s Panties)
“How much do you like these sheets?”
Die altercocken!
The cats at the house I’m housesitting at made me a present of a small corn snake. Well I shouldn’t be ungrateful.
“I dreamt I was Jesus baptizing you with little birdies” – Cheryl upon waking up to a bird chirp alarm
“I am never talking about Catholicism with you again.” - Ari
It’s true little weblog…I seem to have much more interest in activities that do not involve the internet or writing about my life/thoughts. And you end up with nothing.
Alright, here’s the dish:
She’s gone too. My cat velvet died.
I ex-capped to Pecos and the wilderness.
I buried her, head beneath a tree root thicker than my thigh, body curled beside the rock I had to cut through. Cap stone over her. Quarts chunk as a marker. Say goodbye to another beloved body. The body that informed you of herself.
Also my great uncle died. He was 94. No more greats.
Send off the letters to the family members who are distant (and not dead). Hope they accept me for me but if they don’t at least I know. No room for pride or lies anymore.
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