Exhaustion, Thy Name Is Nicky's Apartment

But we did get a great deal bagged up, all the dressers emptied, some bags taken to the Sally Ann ... and an unsuccessful attempt to take Nick's apartment sized freezer down his incredibly awkward and dangerous backstairs. We had a refrigerator dolly, and our wonderful "daughter" Sarah (FB's non-crazy ex and the most wonderful girl in the world) was helping Bob and Andy, but Andy, who has a lot of experience moving heavy stuff, immediately said, "no, pull it back up" after they'd barely started. "It'll crush our heads." So we'll have to get a pro to move it down and into our place.

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 So, In Summary ....

• My cold is rich, bubbly, snotty and mucilaginous. Gah. And the knife-like cough has just gotten revved up. Yay. ( Under the cutCollapse )

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Nick Katz, 1951-2013

My friend Nick Katz, one of my oldest friends in Chicago, the first working colleague I had at Pioneer, who worked on the same staff with me under the same editor for years and years - one of the funniest, most intelligent, quirkiest, most wonderful, most frustrating, most unforgettable people I've ever known - is gone.

His mother, who lives in Florida, hadn't been able to contact him for three or four days and she'd been trying to get in touch with us for the last 24 hours. I finally saw her email, and emailed her back immediately, telling her I'd email Nick, call him from here, and if I didn't hear from him, I'd go up to his place. I have keys; he has had medical problems for a number of years and I've had to help out on a number of occasions.

I tried to call her, as well, to tell her I'd do this, and there was no answer. I hung up, and Bob and I were getting ready to leave the house for some chores. I'd put Nick's keys in my bag, and I was dreading the possibility of having to go up there. I'd gone through this once before, but went up and found that he'd been able to call the paramedics and he'd gotten to hospital. That was last year.

Before I got out of the house, Dee called me. "He's gone." It's really true about how time stretches out in times like this. "Gone" is just one syllable long, but I had so much time between the first part of the word and the last part of the word to think, "You can't mean 'gone.' What do you mean, 'gone'? You mean he's dead, don't you.' 'Don't mean that.' "

So I went over; the cops were still there (in fact, the reason she hadn't answered the phone when I called her was because the cops were just then calling to tell her they'd found him), and I had to ID the body. He probably died sometime between the 8th and 9th, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been, I'm guessing. Our work friend Mike called while we were there, and came over. We were a team together for so many years, the three of us. We drove people crazy.

I'll deal with HR at work, and I've worked out with Dee how much I can let her cousins out in uberrich suburban Chicago bumfuck can handle (cremation and returning him home to her), and Bob and I will clean out his apartment. We're taking all his computers so we can go through them (thank god he hadn't shut them down. I've got to figure a way to keep them on while we transfer them, because if I have to start them up again, they may require a password, and god knows how we'd get in to deal with bills and bank account and such.) I have to contact the management company for the apartment because Dee thinks he's paid up til the end of the month, which should give us the chance to clear most of it out.

No mother should have to bury her child.

I've had more fun than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick today. It's been ... I am going to miss him so very much.



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Birthdays Should be Noted

And, therefore, they are.

First to the altogether admirable jjpor , for whom I bear a great deal of affection, and to whom I owe at least one submission to who_at_50. Writer of excellent fanfics (seriously, go indulge in the historical Torchwood, the Unit, the Seven and Ace that he creates for our enjoyment), a person of wit and gentle demeanor - may your birthday be most excellent!

Also, happy birthday to tartantartesque, she of long ago and very far away. You're not online in these environs very much (or at all) these days, but it doesn't mean I don't wish you the happiest of birthdays, wherever you might be!

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Because I've Gotten So Very Tired

I've gotten tired of hearing and reading whinging about Moffat. So it was really nice to read this. Yes, yes it was. (I'm sure there are other, better commentaries along this line, but this is the one I ran across.)



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Yawn, Check Time, Wash, Rinse, Repeat


Here I am at Halifax International Airport, preparing for my flight to Toronto and thence to Chicago. I'm exhausted, because I had to get up at 4:30 a.m.; my brother works at the Airport as a member of the RCMP detachment there, and his shift begins at 6 a.m. And he was my ride. Ah, well, sleep is over-rated.

I did get a chance to meet what seems like almost every working person at the airport. It's a small airport, but still big enough for this to be rather amazing - unless you know my brother. He's charismatic, slightly theatrical, and genuinely interested in human beings. The latter is both an excellent tool for any police officer to have, it's a fine, fine, tool for human beings in general. I'm proud of my brother for many, many reasons, but the fact that he'll probably be eight days getting to heaven because he'll have to stop and chat with everyone he knows on the way up is actually one of the bigger reasons. Every person he approached broke out in a big, big smile when they saw him approaching, even before he had a chance to say hello. He leaves a mark where he goes, and it's a good one.

(I have a slice of that talent, in that I can generally remember a face and one or two interesting things about people that I may have met years before. It comes in handy for reporters. Come to think of it, cops and reporters both require people skills of various sorts.)

So; back to the U.S., back to union insanity and crushing work schedules. Back to pending intense family drama vis-a-vis the younger generation. Back to the love of my life. Back to my own bed. Back home, with the knowledge that my mum is getting better. Not bad, as we say in Canada.

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 Tired, But Amused

Perhaps it's because I'm exhausted, but I felt I had to post again to apprise the world of two things: I really still enjoy A&W Teenburgers and root beer, food items I only seem to eat when I'm in Canada; and the reality show "Nineteen Kids and Counting" is a truly horrific, repugnant show. I had heard about it but had never aeen it, so I decided to watch when I ran across it last night whilst channel surfing. This entry was originally posted at http://kaffyr.dreamwidth.org/255763.html?mode=reply, where there are currently comments. You can comment there or here; I watch both.

I'm Away ...

... and in Toronto, just a few minutes before boarding for Halifax. Dead tired and wired - a full day yesterday amidst the Chicago torrential downpours. And now I'm traveling. Traveling alone isn't as fun as traveling with BB. I miss him. But soon I'll see my mother, and that's a good thing.



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She Made It

Mom made it through surgery.

The doctor said she was (and I apparently quote) "A tough old bird with a strong constitution." She's in the ICU and is not out of danger yet, but the doctor removed a tumor, took out a section of perforated bowel and told my brother if my mother hadn't had the surgery today, she would have been dead in two or three days.

Mac is working to get me up there as quickly as possible. As he said, "I'm glad I'm bringing you up here to be with her, and not to bury her."

So am I.

To all the possible and potentially good gods out there, to the universe which may or may not notice. Thank you.

But even more to all of you. Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers. I am exhausted and I am heading to bed.

This entry was originally posted at http://kaffyr.dreamwidth.org/254365.html?mode=reply, where there are currently comments. You can comment there or here; I watch both.

A Short in the Fairy Lights

It’s been a while since  I last posted (and how many times do my posts begin with that? But every time I’ve approached the computer with the intent of writing anything — a post, the next chapter of Hearts & Moons, the meditation on Jackie and Nine that I’m at least a month late in finishing —  I find myself turning instead to a computer game or YouTube. Still, the bicycle beckons, and  I must attend, if only to keep my brain in some sort of working condition.

So. Doctor Who.

I’ve seen the first three episodes of the back half of S07, and thus far  I have been underwhelmed.

(ETA: Also? I'm underwhelmed by the ability of LJ to accept cross-postings right now. It refused to accept paragraph spacings, and took out print color, refusing to put it back, whether I worked in rich text or html. It won't let me put my cursor where I want it to go. It ... ack. How many ways do I hate thee, oh unnamed LJ PTB?)

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Looking Back, Looking Forward

In August of 1983, Bob Rockafield hired me to be a reporter for the Park Ridge Advocate, one of the weekly newspapers of Pioneer Press in suburban Chicago.

( It's a long story.Collapse ) This entry was originally posted at http://kaffyr.dreamwidth.org/253592.html?mode=reply, where there are currently comments. You can comment there or here; I watch both.

 Happy, Happy Birthday

To that progressive and thoughtful fannish editor-cum-imp james_davis_nicoll .  Many's the time I've regretted clicking on links he provided, and many's the time I've been rather happy he provided those links anyhow. I'm glad to know you, and I hope your year is fantastic, free of squirrel attacks and filled with odd feline theater.

(Also, a belated but heartfelt Happy Birthday (March 12) to writer extraordinaire lyricwrites. May your year, already full of amazing things, be even richer than you hope for!)
This entry was originally posted at http://kaffyr.dreamwidth.org/253022.html?mode=reply, where there are currently comments. You can comment there or here; I watch both.