The funeral and family stuff filled up all of Saturday. The pastor was an 80-year-old woman; the perfect choice for my Aunt Janet. I think I want an elderly woman with a crinkly smile and slightly shaky hands to stand in the pulpit when it’s my turn to go. (Which, btw, I have scheduled for sometime in the the mid 2050s.) After the service we trooped back to my cousin’s house and caught up with each other and laughed a lot. That’s how our family deals with pain – we laugh at it. Don’t get me wrong. There have been a lot of tears shed over her death, moments of absolute rage and sorrow. But now we have to keep going, and we might as well do it with a smile.
Spent yesterday reading letters and journals written during the Amer Rev. These didn’t have anything to do with the incidents I am focusing on in my book. I was reading them for language, looking for phrases and words which people in the time period were comfortable using, and which I can appropriately use in my story. I have a lot more of that in front of me today.
I also finally unpacked the last of my boxes of books from the move last summer. I can’t afford the bookshelves I want yet, so for the time being, they are laid out on the floor, watching me type. It was so nice to see some of them again. I missed them.
Yeah, I’m strange like that, but it works for me.