Insert photo of wrecked Nissan Versa here.
No, I didn’t forget to insert the photo. I’m just waiting for Robyn to see my request and tell me how to do it. Meanwhile, I’m just going to sit here and babble. Rick got rear-ended by some guy on August 25. Last night we purchased a used Minivan with the money that our insurance provider (they will go after the guy’s insurance) gave us – which wasn’t much, but we weren’t in the position to argue because we needed a car…like NOW. We scrambled to find a vehicle and we really, really lucked out. Rick will be driving the Honda CR-V to work.
The people who owned it kept meticulous records of everything that van had done to it. She was also the most sincere Christian I ever met. No lie, she is a Jesus freak that I really enjoyed hanging out with. I can’t explain it. But by the time this purchase was done I knew a lot of personal things about her and she knew the same about me. Bonding over a minivan, go figure. In another lifetime I could see us being friends, but I know the whole atheist thing might be a problem for her. Hee!
A lot of you who have read me for years would know that I would rather stab myself in the eye than drive a minivan. It came down to one thing – COMFORT. It’s a Chrysler Town & Country Touring that seats 7. That will definitely come in handy when I’m hauling my mother’s clan around. I prefer a bigger vehicle, especially on the highway because truck drivers give me panic attacks. My preference would have been an Expedition (Eddie Bauer edition because that’s what I love), but it wasn’t in the cards. Too high of miles, too beat up, and I already have an Expedition sitting in my backyard (up on the hill, behind the pine trees) waiting to have repairs so it can go back on the road.
So yeah, I’ll be rocking a minivan. If anybody can do it, it’ll be me.
I really do suck at this whole journal writing thing. I’m trying to blame everybody and their brother for why I’m not doing it regularly, but I can’t. I just suck. That, and the fact that there is nothing going on here might have something to do with it.
I’m currently waiting to see if my insurance with authorize knee-replacement surgery. I have arthritis so bad in the one knee that it’s actually deformed. I look knock-kneed when I stand and when I walk there are times that it jams so hard that I gasp. Yeah. People like me don’t go around gasping in public. That’s not our family style. So I made an appointment, got a useless cortisone shot (one of many over the years) and now I have another appointment to go over everything for the surgery. The only thing left to do is pray that the insurance company authorizes the surgery without any bullshit. I predict a butt-ton of bullshit, but I’m hoping not. If everything goes according to plan, I’ll come home and have my surgery after vacation.
I’m not giving up on writing here, but my own brain is giving me grief. I worry about my husband’s job even more than I use to (which is why this journal will be Rick-lite). I worry about my kids because they’re adults now and have lives of their own. But then I remember that I’m also an adult and I have the right to write my truth. Then there is Shirley. God Bless Shirley. My mother, my rock. My huge pain in the ass. She’s going to be 75 in October and is still as stubborn as a mule. I don’t care what she says – I will write about her here because it will save my sanity to get things off of my chest. The good news? She’s in reasonably good health so I’m not worried about caregiving yet. The bad news? She does dumb shit and I’m absolutely positive that she’s going to break a hip and I’ll be stuck taking care of her. It’s not that I don’t want to do the work. It’s that I know my mother. She WILL make me want to blow my brains out.
The comment about blowing my brains out above is another thing that makes me paranoid about writing here. If one person knows someone that has really done that horrible deed, I am truly fucked for joking about it. We live in that kind of world now and I’m going to have to force my brain to stop with the vanilla nonsense when I write something. If I stick to vanilla, this journal will get pretty boring. And then I’ll quit because it has bored me. These are the things that have stopped me from getting on here and vomiting my life all over the place.
When I last wrote here it was about the wedding of my oldest son, Alex. He married Cheyenne in a simple wedding in our back yard. It could have been a disaster, but thanks to a few of my friends (Robyn & Regan) it was fine. Regan loves to be a problem solver so she was up there bossin’ and yappin’ at people while Robyn and I were doing other things. That’s the beauty of having two best friends that are totally different. My only bitch was that the day was too hot. The humidity was excessive. and everyone was hot and sweaty. My cousin’s husband is a minister so he performed the ceremony. He also baptized Alex in the backyard when he was 3 months old, also in July, and it was the hottest day of that year. Timing is everything in our family. We’re cool that way. Or not cool (technically).
We did the traditional Pittsburgh cookie table which means we were baking for a month before and we had to haul the cookies to my uncle’s house because we already had a freezer full of cookies. We had homemade pierogies there, stuffed cabbage, fried chicken, macaroni & cheese, rigatoni, various salads/vegetables (for the vegetarians), popcorn bar, nacho bar, and other things that I’m just not thinking of right now. I’ll just say that there was plenty of good food and nobody left hungry. Later in the day the adults (or more older adults) hid out in the air conditioning while the friends visited around a bonfire. Meanwhile, they’re nerds with nerd friends so nothing got out of hand. It was a pleasant and relaxed wedding.
Robyn took this picture after everyone went through the first time – it was a small, intimate wedding (only 36 were invited and 35 came) and, of course, I made enough food for 175 people. It’s required by some kind of family law around here. And everyone knows that your reputation is shot if you run out of food. What kind of woman are you? heh.
It’s going to take me a minute to get back into writing here because I’m busy with the damn wedding. I say “damn wedding” because I hit the brick wall of frustration. There are still a lot of things to get done, but yet most of the things have to wait until the week of the wedding. I’m sure I’ll be losing my mind by then. Meanwhile, I’m going to not worry about writing here until after the wedding. It’ll take some pressure off (I hope).
For those of you not in the know: Wedding is for Alex (my oldest son) and Cheyenne. It’s going to be at our house (outside) and we’re all working our asses off on it. Fingers crossed that I’m not so verklempt when it’s over that I can come back here and start writing again. Time is no longer my friend. That fucker.
It was kind of shitty of me to start writing here and then stop again for a few days, but as per my usual, life got in the way. Ha! I said few days when it was really over 2 weeks. I suck. There’s been a lot going on around here.
1. Still dealing with the wedding of Cheyenne and Alex. Yes, I wrote it that way even though I know Alex’s name should be first, but I’m pissed off at him. More on that later.
2. We had to have Fat Sadie Mae put down. With her weight we hadn’t realized how large her tumors had grown. The ones under her rib cage were pushing on her lungs and she couldn’t breathe. She already couldn’t walk and there were other medical problems too (she took phenobarbital for seizures). The poor old girl did the best that she could for us, but it was time for us to be unselfish and let her go. I’m logical about these kinds of things, but these fucking animals take a little piece of my heart every fucking time.
I never did get my laptop moved upstairs (it’s so haaaaaard), but I’m still out here wanting to write. Apparently these are my baby steps.
When I used to write entries it was always quiet and I could whip out an entry in no time. Now, I’m in the same room with Shirley and it’s like she never shuts up. Or she’s yelling at the dogs. And I do mean YELLING. I suppose I’ve always just tuned her out when I was younger, but lately…GOD DAMN. I’m chewing down Xanax just to get through the day (FYI: I take one a day). The best part? Peace is deaf and it looks like Sadie has lost her hearing with old age. They can’t even hear her —- and yet, the yelling continues.
I just told her to knock it off because they’re not going to like that yelling at the nursing home I’m putting her in. Hee!
So how the hell do I plan to do entries? Easy. I’m going to go upstairs and do them from my laptop. Hopefully nobody will follow. Or yell up the steps. Fingers crossed.
I’m just going to leave a little juicy tid-bit up here so everyone will know a little bit about what’s been on my mind…I found my biological father/sperm donor and boy, what a doozy that turned out to be!