It's just getting better, but hasn't gotten worse yet.

I'm listening to a live version of Gomez' "Fill My Cup" and feeling good. Loving the music, those crazy contrasts that keep them young (if not as some would argue, amateurish).

And still feeling the adrenaline. My granddad's girlfriend read the note, and replied with a very kind note saying she totally agrees with me -- and that basically "you should hear the things he says that I don't write down."

But she hadn't read it to him yet.

And boy, is he going to be mad.

My aunt and uncle wrote and called me and said "Wow, can't believe you stood up to him. And how." Yup.

And what surprised me was how my uncle said he didn't think there was any dementia involved, but I shot back that I do. I said, when was the last time you saw him? Five years ago. Well, he's ninety now.

[ooh, now it's the Cardigans' "Been It" -- cute and rockin'. Next up, sparklehorse. Cute.]

So I know I won't change his mind, and this may get me on his Bad list for many moons, but I really don't need to sit still for that kind of treatment of my own family.

But as my uncle put it, I let him have it, with both guns blazing. And I'm having a little trouble believing it, too.