when my mother met Nebraska, she summed him up in apx two sentences
her: why is he so much higher up in the world when he's not as smart as you?
me: white male privilege, ever heard of it? and he's very smart, he's just not funny
her: huh 🤨
and
her: must be a lot of cold women in his world, he's up your ass like you invented the blowjob
me: right? and he lived for a year in France 🤷♀️
her: huh 🤨
us: 🤣🤣
the edition of Love Medicine I'm reading is a signed first print that he got me as a gift not long after we met. my response was to take his Dartmouth hoodie. gimme a break, it's like wearing a fucking class ring, on me it's sexyfunny on him just douchie 🤨 reminded of it, I popped that baby into the laundry today to freshen it up for cooler weather (it's a nice heavy hoodie, $ buys nicer stuff)
it was always a strange/strained dynamic of his privilege(s) being what he had to offer, and I took it but was also crabby about the fact of it. summation: 4 years of my trying to be nicer + another couple learning my lesson (I should not have been nicer)
then
her: good riddance, don't let the door hit you in the ass
me: yep 🤷♀️
her: what was his name again?
us: 🤣🤣
me: you shouldn't keep practicing dementia, ma
her: well it was a dumb name, I remember that much
me: truth
us: 🤣🤣
 |
| fell outa the back flap |
made me miss her. so, dodging chores (I hate mowing lawns!), I called The Knife. she sounded much better, still kinda half outa her mind but more in the typical way, not that deathspiral worrymongering version. that was truly awful and it had not improved much by Montana. but today, we talked for nearly two hours. mostly about her flowers and visiting my aunt and my niece is taking her to water areobics 2x a week. no A-bone shit, thank god. aspirationally, she could/might be able to return again for Oct. she was here last Oct, the house was still a disaster but she was fine, her usual batshit. I don't think I'd put her on a plane - I or one of the kids would fetch her by car, after the new patio is done, so worse comes to it that'd be her "bedroom" off the kitchen with a pretty view of potted fall mums. and Lake Placid would be a 3-day weekend at peak color.
when she went home in June, my sister took her right to the ER. we ain't doing that shit again. and after a scope down her throat and one up her ass and a swallowed camera therafter, tests all damn summer, it has been confirmed: she's nothing but old but was also clinically depressed nearly to death. for which she still refuses meds cz she's "fine now" 🙄. so. no. not that shit again. people can just decide to die. and I am at just knock that off (or don't) with everyone, and she doesn't get the 'or don't' option. nope.
she's 83. and there is basically nothing wrong with her except her personality 🤨🙄🤣
my annual physical is coming up this week. teeth cleaned yesterday. virgo-plodding through the checklist of sensible things. my primary will try to talk me into a million tests, and I will make the same false promises to get those done. I know my entire extended family's health outcomes - all the grandparents greatgrands cousins uncles all of it on both sides - nobody has ever died of anything but their personality. not one instance of cancer of any kind anywhere or anything much except self-abuse. a cousin drank himself to death, another shot himself last year, my dad moved to that fancy assisted living and stubbornly died of "fuck this" in less than a month, etc. the only risk factors I inherit (aside from the many personality "issues") is osteo-stenosis shit, which I think I'll let my eagle pose be the diagnostic on that for now. I lost 50 pounds in 6 months dying of Dying - then I dumped 👆 got an endocrinologist and a psychiatrist and a therapist and did all the hard work of knocking it off while dodging bullets. now, I'm rendered down to a concentrate. I don't need a CAT scan to tell me that, so I didn't get one. to appease my primary this year, I'll get the thing where they tell me my tits are "dense" (that tracks lol)
thunder just boomed (told ya)
