Since I last updated:

It's been a beautiful day in the neighborhood

Thanksgiving! My favorite holiday!

My grandfather's memorial service was held, was lovely, and was really upsetting.

And I was taught how to make authentic and amazingly delicate strudel by one of my grandfather's old post-doctoral interns who flew in from Portland, OR just for the service (what's the right word? Student? Intern? Underling? Guy?).
And I have a crush on said guy. Hello German accent, blunt honesty, and ability to bake amazing treats for me while I stare with mouth agape. How attracted I am to you and how familiar you are...

I was surprised by how many of my grandfather's colleagues traveled from very far just to be present at the casual service. It made me feel very proud, very impressed by his accomplishments, and very hopeful that someday I might have so much of an influence that my colleagues will travel from far and wide in order to just give their final appreciation as they all did.

I don't want to talk about the service, but a few walkaway points:
1. my grandfather was really into physics, more than I had ever known (and has been author/coauthor for 30+ peer-reviewed papers)
2. he was also really into environmental activism more than I had ever known (and spokespeople from town councils and environmental groups were present and actually spoke up during the memory sharing time)
3. the man who fancies calling himself my "boyfriend" is self-absorbed and it is a good thing I never agreed to monogamy. During the service he pulled me to a corner, sat me down, and chided me and tried to guilt and upset me over not inviting him to every social event I had been involved in over the past week and for not texting and calling him more often over the past 2 days when I had been cooking for thanksgiving and organizing for the service nonstop. He was turning everything into himself, turning all of these created problems into my problems because they were my fault.
I had already been crying from the service's festivities, though, so perhaps he was just being cleverly opportunistic (as making me cry harder is not as bad as making me start to cry). I was crying out of anger and shock over his lack of respect for me, my grandfather, and the occasion, though- not because I was concerned that our relationship was rocky. That's something that always bugs me- my lack of true concern for the state of aspects of my life when I'm in the process of letting them rot.
But the whole situation is okay now. Because I am rubber and he is glue and I am insensitive and too relaxed and he is driving himself crazy, not me.
4. Not viewing the body is the way to go, and so is story-sharing time. They make for a celebration rather than a situation where everyone feels like they're dying inside.

Anyway, me and once-upon-a-time-post-doc (who is now a fancy schmancy professor at a good university in Oregon) have swapped emails and I think it is only a matter of time before we'll be swappin' the juices.

I'm almost ashamed to sign this one, but here you go.

-Camille