old paintings and fat bastards

Finally, after two months and ten days I've unpacked. I put up my frenchie posters (la tour eiffel, ses monumnets de paris, et parapluie-revel) and shoved as much of the stuff I don't need but can't part with into my closet. I also managed to part with the past year's school notes and papers. But most especially, I've taped up my "...poetically, man dwells..." protocol from Krell's Heidegger class.

I also managed to find an old poem. One which found me at a very uncanny time, considering my aunt's failing health.

my grandmother's painting
hangs in the staircase
of her aunt's house.
neither have visited each other
since they spit their vows
never to step through the threshold
of the other's door.
so in Auntie Irene's staircase,
which she no longer can ascend,
hangs a lonely landscape;
a snow-showered shed
long abandoned by those
who huddled together for warmth
the fire refused to provide,
the trees bent over
from years of battering,
the grass hidden for the season,
and in the gray dreary sky
floats the pride and regret
of both women.

Damn it. I don't want to see another beloved family member waste away at the Oak Park Hospital. The first time was hard enough. And although circumstances are not as grave, Irene still has a long road ahead of her. A path which she must encounter with the utmost positivity, every day. No room exists for refused meals because they're overcooked or too sweet. But unfortunately, even the most dedicated patient can't be this strong. She's in the hands of fate now...funny how it isn't til someone's in their eighties that we can say this, when it's true for everyone regardless of age.

No transition: Fat Bastard. An unusual, but very striking name for a wine label. Currently indulging their Shiraz for the night's end and also while I wait for my sweet potatoes to finish boiling. Tomorrow is my good friend Tim's birthday and I'm making him a sweet potato pie. I doubt it will measure up to his mom's recipe, but hopefully it'll make him happy. He asked for it last year but I went over and made eggs and hash browns for his birthday breakfast instead.

In addition to unpacking, I massively cleaned the apartment and spent three hours studying for the GRE. I have a month and seven days until the big day. I've finished the first section and am currently delving into the math portions. I have to make flashcards for vocab before I go to bed. I need to commit to about thirty vocab words per day.

Finally, unofficial total for books: $350. Order of Things by Foucault is a hundred dollar book.

And apparently fruit flies like wine-especially the glasses out of which I'm drinking. gross.