And moving forward

* There is a "family time" tonight, so I will go to that. (I can't cancel lab for the funeral, and I can't find someone to cover lab for me - this is a lab that is in an area of expertise that I alone on the faculty have). There's also a lunch for family tomorrow and while I feel like I should be doing something for it - I did for Dorothy, I did at Dr. B's funeral - I just can't. The last three days of this week are going to be nuts, because we have a job candidate in EACH DAY.

* I don't know. That seems to symbolize some kind of "life goes on" thing, or, I don't know, maybe that life-stuff never arranges itself conveniently for times when you're not busy.

* Daylight Saving hit kind of hard this year. I dislike these first few weeks of it (that it starts so early, too): I go from driving to work when the sun is up to driving to work in the dark. I was rather frustrated with the Weather Channel the day or two before, when they were talking about how we all got "extra sunlight" after the time change. No. There is no "extra" sunlight, absent the few seconds we gain with each day we get closer to the summer solstice. The only people who get "extra" sunlight are those who sleep in late enough to be up after the dawn during standard time. And, perhaps, the people who can get in a round of golf after work instead of having to grade or attend to life-chores like laundry or marketing. (And really: how many people in today's America get to sleep through the dawn? And how many have enough free time in the afternoon to go have fun? Probably not most working people; probably not most parents.)

I don't know. I always feel like something's been taken from me when DST happens. I adjust to it eventually, but this first week is difficult. (I just hope no one in the government ever decides that the old British "Double Summer Time" - like they had in WWII, setting the clocks 2 hours ahead - is a viable idea to "save energy.")

* I guess all losses can bring up older losses. I had a dream last night that I was traveling to go see where my paternal grandparents were interred (in the world of the dream, though not in reality, they had been cremated). The mausoleum was huge, a series of different rooms, and people's remains were situated by room based on the year in which they died. I remember having thought, "That seems like a pretty cold and inhumane system; people would not have family members together" but then I got in the line to go in. I also remember some worry about "Am I properly dressed?" and looking around and deciding I needed to cover my hair (Is that much done any more in Christian religious contexts? I've never been to a church service where that was expected). Fortunately, I had a silk scarf in my purse (??? I never carry one in real life) so I put it on. My aunt - my grandparents' daughter-in-law - who was with me commented on how well brought up I was. We never did find my grandmother's remains....

I've had stress-dreams since the middle of last week. I'm ready for them to stop.

* I need to do something about my bangs. Confession: I don't have someone down here to "do" my hair; my hair needs cutting infrequently enough that I go to the person my mom goes to when I'm visiting up there. 3-4 times a year is enough for my hairstyle. And because it's an old-fashioned barber shop, there's no pressure to "change up my look" or "mask those greys." Which are two of the things that hold me back from finding someone down here - I don't like being pressured about those things and I don't like feeling like there's something wrong with me because I'm electing NOT to "cover those greys."

But either I have to cut my own bangs or go find someone who can, because now, unless I brush them carefully, I kind of have the 1980s alternative/emo band hair thing going on - like one of the Thompson Twins, only with more hair on the rest of my head, or something.

Sometimes I think about growing the bangs out completely - 45 is really a little old to wear a fringe - but I have such a high forehead and no other good way to camouflage it. I look kind of like a tragic Renaissance heroine without bangs. (I leave it as an exercise to the reader to decide which look is worse: 1980s New Waver or Tragic Renaissance Princess?)