I seem to be spending less and less time updating this thing as the years pass. It seems like my life is accelerating, and I have less and less time for some of the things I love, like quiet reflection and reading.
My father died.
It's so huge I haven't even allowed myself to get my head wrapped around it. I've known I need to hash out my feelings on the subject, and I tend to do that alone. I've been going out with people. I've been having guests. I've been stacking my evenings and weekends up with projects.
Some of it is just that lots of things happened at once. I had finally started to get myself in line. I had a good job that I really enjoy. I finally allowed myself to see why he made the decisions he did with Mom. I was so angry for so long at him, and I finally broke down and went in to talk to him. I never had given him a chance to explain the story from his perspective.
I made peace with it. I'd give him a hand here and there. One of his buddies wanted to keep backup copies of Woodstock VHS tapes, so I recorded them on my computer and made DVDs for him. I was still trying to track down a good way to replace the ribbon on that old cash register he still used. I'm happy I got a chance to get to know him, even just a little.
I never knew he liked float trips as much as he did. I've only been on the one, but I'm all about camping. I've been camping up a storm the past few years, and when we got onto that topic, he even said he'd like for me to go on one of the float trips. It's a shame, ... no, a damn shame that I didn't get the chance to go. Still, it's helpful knowing he was willing.
In all honesty, I was a bit of a dick to him for years. I'm not really sure why, except that I was really a Momma's boy and seeing her hurt the way she was, I immediately decided Dad was the villain. She actively tried to tell me not to base my decision around that, but I did, just the same.
I also think Aaron got a bum rap after awhile. I understand that Aaron's shenanigans really were amazingly tough to deal with, but Dad wouldn't even talk to him anymore. I can understand not helping someone if you don't like the way they live, but at least still talk to your son. That hurts Aaron like nothing else, now. He'll never have any closure from that one now.
I wish I'd talked to him more about the business side of things, because it would be really helpful now to be able to figure out where his money was coming from, where it was going, and who to trust. Also, what regulations would take effect if someone else was to try to run it. There's no real way for me to pick up the pieces of the business.
Last time I wrote, I was reeling off of being in Las Vegas for a trade show. Now, my company has sent me to Amsterdam! I went a few weeks ago to the IBC trade show. I really like the layout of the city. There is mass transit and bicycling everywhere, and you can tell the tourists by girth. When you cross the street, you cross the walking path, the bicycle path (that sometimes has cars -- I'm not sure how that one works), then the driving path, the bus (on rails) path, and then the whole list in reverse again.
The coffeeshops that sell marijuana were neat. It's not too much different than a coffee shop here, except for that there are often several smoking sections: marijuana only, tobacco only, and mixed. Getting good quality marijuana is pretty cheap there, as you would expect. The top of the line stuff is maybe 20% more expensive than the bottom. The amount of money they make from taxing it, I'm told, is quite phenominal, although another huge part of the revenue stream is legalized prostitution.
In the Red Light district, you pass by shop windows with live mannequins sporting various outfits, largely lingerie. I don't remember seeing any full frontal nudity in the windows, though. For 50 Euros, you can get oral, followed by vaginal sex, but bear in mind that the Seattle Times reported that 7% of Dutch prostitutes have HIV/AIDS. The girls' workspaces are kept fairly clean. There is a small shower available to clean up before and afterwards. The girls use condoms, and there is a towel on the bed that is changed from patron to patron.
I drank lots of club soda there. You buy it in the shops right next to the regular bottled water. I never really saw drinking fountains there, so a bottle of water is essential. Also, in the subway station is a small grocery store. I typically bought a little bag of a carrot/cucumber mix and at it on the way to work in the subway. If I needed something, I picked it up on the way home. It took a half hour at least to get most places, but you got all of what you needed on the way. It streamlines shopping into the rest of the day.
The latest business I have going is back with the estate situation again. Mary is apparently trying to say that my brother and I were estranged sons, and that she should be the one to administer the estate. She also thinks there may be a will in the basement of the bar, and wants 10 minutes to search. I'm definitely fine with that, but I'm wary. I don't want her going down there alone or anything, because there's the possibility she would want to take something else, or plant a false document or something. I'd like to have a video camera down there with us so that everything is well documented. A will would clear up so much tension. I'm sure someone would get burned and hate the outcome, but if we get a genuine will, at least we find out what Dad wanted. It smells awfully fishy that this only came out now, though. If she knew of a will, why not mention that immediately?
We've both got the lawyers working on it right now, though, anyway. We'll let them battle it out. I hope I got a good one. No way to know until the end, though, I guess. I still don't have a key to the bar. I have to try and get ahold of my brother to get in there, which is probably part of why nothing much has been done on the inside. We did a sweep for valuables, of course, because Mom said Dad liked hide large sums of cash around, and things like that, but we didn't find much. I know for certain some things were taken, though.
I don't think we ever found his .38 special, but we found the speedloader for it, which he stored right alongside it. I think there were more guns missing, but my brother knows guns and can rattle them off. I never remember. The only things I know about guns are what I've learned from video games. A shotgun will help you in close combat, and a rifle is used for longer shots. Things like that.
We need to go through the stuff in there and trash all the trash so that my grandmother can sell it. I know she's wanting to do that as soon as possible, but the only reason we're really allowed to be in there is because she still owns the property. Although I am fairly sure the contents of the bar will be awarded to my brother and me, we can't make much of a move until we get through Probate. My current plan is to sort through stuff, stacking up trash out of the way and categorizing the things worth keeping for perhaps a sale or something. I don't really know what to do with all of it.
I need to go try and call my brother now to see if he ever got the key copy made. If not, I need to take the key from him. If nothing else, I need my tools back that are trapped in there now. I need to start cancelling the TV service and all the utilities and such we can live without. There's so much I need to do, and I have been slacking. There's just too much going in my life right now.
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