Doing Some Catch-Up

Last weekend was pretty cool in some ways. We had both the Schtooper Bowl and Blogroll Amnesty Day. But in another way, last weekend was definately not cool: Saturday was -- there's no real graceful way to say it -- The last day of my mother-in-law's life.

Death is most always a bummer, but it can also be a relief in some ways. I will miss my MIL as she was always at the very least tolerant of me, if not always nice. The problem, as with most people when they age, was her health. She has a variety of physical ailments, that I'll not get into except to say that she inspired me to finally quit smoking -- I have not smoked since mid-August.

Probably her worst/most problematic ailment was her dementia. In her final days, she literally did not always know where she lived or who those were who were around her. It was very sad, and for my wife who took care of her, very frustrating.

I can only, at best, imagine how frustrating it must have been for my MIL. So...

As of Saturday, February 2, 2008, Elizabeth O Scott resides where the leaves don't need to be raked, standard Poodles don't need to be hoisted onto tables to be clipped, and weeds, if they appear at all, pull easily.

How's that Bush Health Care Policy Working for You, Tony?

So Tony Snow needs to make more money, eh? His fight with colon cancer continues, but for some reason it's the money issue that's making all the press. Does Bush pays his cronies in peanuts, or what? I remember Tom Ridge had to resign from Homeland Stupidity, because he needed more money to put his kids through college. Does Tony have college age kids? Seriously, Why does he need more money?

OK, so maybe that's a dumb question. Hell, I want more money, and probably would even if I didn't have real reasons like a wife who had to quit work to look after her Mom who has dementia, with a freeloading recovering stepdaughter, and grandmonster, in the house, and Carpal Tunnel surgery on the horizon. I might want more money even if I had as much as the average Bush crony/contributor/spokesliar. Still My mind keeps coming back to the cancer issue, wondering what kind of insurance the bush White House offers its minions. Does it cover pre-existing conditions? Does it have caps? Copays? Deductibles? Or is the White House the model for Dub's proposed "health care savings accounts?"

Maybe he just wants to go wild before he dies. Traveling; partying; building a sex dungeon?

Gone So Long, I Forgot a Title

Damn, it's been a long time since I posted anything, and longer still since I posted anything worth reading (if I ever did.) That whole bullshit thing at work, with the time clock, threw me off much more than it should have. Then there was the visit by the wife's niece and nephew ( the Republican's kids) and an overlapping visit by the cool brother-in-law from New York, with his partner. Things are almost back to normal, or as normal as they ever get around here (or in any household): the Mother-in-law is parked in her usual spot playing solitaire at the dining room table, looking out at Greenlake -- which she likes to point out is actually blue -- and the mountains, while the wife plays sudoku at the counter and answers her repeated questions about where she lives, for how long, with whom, and when the kids and her son are going to get here to visit. That's right, her son just left and she has no clue he was here. Sad; really sad. The grandmonster was running around making enough noise for an army, as many 7-yo boys are prone to do, but now he's picked up a dust mop and is busy cleaning and frightening my dog; she hates any kind of contraption, no matter how simple. I don't think Ms Thing poking her head out of her cave for a sec to scold her kid had much to do with him quieting down; I think he just needs a variety regarding whose nerves he irritates. Me? I'm just sitting here being my boring self. one thing...

Back on the Fourth of July I announced that I was going to attempt to quit smoking, using Chantix. Well as of midnite-ish tonight, it will be one whole week without. The week before last,I went nearly four days without (95 hours, and yes, I was counting.) It's taken a long time, but hopefully I've done it. Some of the toughest hurdles were: Not having one first thing in the morning; Not having one just before bed; Not having one during the drive to or from work; Not having one while on the crapper; Not having one after eating; Not having one while having a glass of wine; And on and on. A step at a time, a day at a time, blah blah. Which makes me wonder: When will I be a non-smoker?

The 12-steppers seem to have this thing about "being in recovery," or always being a "Recovering _____," (fill in the blank yourself), as if the job is never done, the struggle is never over, as if there is no such thing as success... as if they were once dependent on some thing or substance, and now are dependent on the group/program. Maybe they're right. After all, I did once quit for 8 1/2 years only to start again and smoke for 20+ yrs. But then what about positive thinking? "I think, therefore I am?" If I always think I'm quitting, will I ever truly quit? Will I ever think and believe that I am a non-smoker? that I truly no longer smoke? that I will never smoke again? When will I (be able to) quit counting hours, days, weeks, months... without? When will I be able to ditch the toothpicks?

I don't want to become a self-righteous anti-smoking Nazi, nor do I want to forever have to wear the scarlet S and walk through life as if I need forgiveness for the horrible sin I've committed.

Whatever the hell happens, it'll be nice to be able to walk up a fight of steps and carry on a conversation without reaching the top, gasping for breath.

Smart Questions; Stupid Answers

Someone put up a sign where I work not long ago that merely said, "Fuck it." I noticed a few days later that someone added to it, "OK, but you're it." Not in the same way at all, but Jess has decided I'm it. This is a first for me, but here goes. My answers to five questions of which I've never thought:

1. Wednesday, Nov. 5, 2008. Our side won! How do you celebrate?

Hmmm.... Call in sick to start. Bang the beejeezus out of the wife. Double shots of Irish Cream in my coffee. Host a barbecue for the neighborhood.

2. Are you on a boat or are you a land lubber or do you soar?

I live in a house, on land, but I love being on the water. I fished and crabbed when I lived in Southeast Alaska, and there's nothing like falling asleep on a boat at anchor. It's just like being rocked to sleep in a cradle. Of natural DD boobs. on a different note, I consider myself a fairly down-to-earth logical person. Not highly imaginative, unless the subject is a bit perverse. Fairly predictable, unless in mixed company and expected to behave.

3. What was the last mistake you wished you could cover up?

Probably that time I was wrong. Actually, I can't really think of one, and that's not meant to imply that I'm at all perfect. There's no real need to cover up honest mistakes. It's intentional lies, law breaking and outright stupidity that need covering, like Vitter's shit, or giving over your credit card in a titty bar.

4. Are your omelettes fluffy?

Shit. I haven't attempted one in about ten years. Now I'm going to have to go make one to find out.

5. When was the last time your paradigm shifted?

"Paradigm: 1: model, pattern 2: a systematic inflection of a verb or noun showing a complete conjugation or declension." Riiiiight... Hmmmmm... Welllllll... Since being married and having a step-family, it seems like things are constantly shifting. Dealing with my mother-in-law's dementia is always a challenge. It's gotten to the point now, where she doesn't know where she lives most of the time. Then there's life with the step-daughter and grandmonster. They recently moved in after she decided to kick her oxycontin addiction. She and I NEVER got along, but she's been taking her treatment/recovery seriously and is undergoing some real changes. I hope that she continues, but I fear that she won't. She's earned a bit of my respect, and I've actually come to kind of like her. I don't have to put up with her; I can enjoy her company and conversation. Sounds easy, right?

Life was easier when I hated her. I never gave a rat's ass what she did, or if she got into trouble -- except with regards as to how she would pawn off the consequences to my wife and I. Now I worry. I don't want to see her relapse into the bitch-queen she was, who thought that acting grown up and accumulating things, was the same as being grown up and earning your place in life. She wants to act like a teenager and I want to slap her silly and ground her even though I know that neither would do her any good. She talks about guys and instead of me worrying about them knowing what they light be getting into, I worry about her getting her heart broken or just feeling used and thrown away. I'm not used to that. At all. It's like being a fucking dad or something.

There. Done.