Open Heart

Gramma,

Before I left, I was in the process of adding another dog to our pack.  I put that on hold.  Sonny was a four-year-old Jack Russell.  I saw him on Craig's List and fell in love with his face.  For days I kept going back to look at his picture.  I started showing it to Dave.  "Isn't he cute?  Look at that face.  He needs a home." 

"What are you saying?  You want that dog?"  A few more days went by and he said he didn't care.  Jack's are our favorite breed.  Nothing would ever replace Radar, but this guy looked like a fun time.  There was a $250.00 re-homing fee, which was waived because there were no other takers.  The daughter was allergic to him, reacting with skin rashes that bled.

I made arrangements to have the dog out for a meet and greet.  Her car broke down.  My car broke down.  I agreed to pick him on Labor Day Saturday.  Dave's son was coming over with the baby.  This was a rare occasion.  Dave's 82-year-old mother decided to make the forty minute trek up the freeway to see the baby.  It probably took her an hour and pissed off a lot of people along the way.  I was feeling crappy.  Probably stress.  I vacuumed and picked up a cake in town. 

It was unusual for the daughter-in-law to visit.  Then came the bombshell.  Dave's son needed open heart surgery.  He planned to have it done after hunting season.  I think Dave was in a daze.  He held the baby.  We had cake.  Eleanor was going to leave.  I told her we were going to the cities anyway, that Dave could drive her home and I would follow.  She objected.  After we dropped her off, we went to pick up the dog.  It was a bright spot. 

We sat outside drinking  beer and watching the dogs be dogs.  We didn't like the name Sonny came with.  We tried other names on him.  Clark kind of fit.  Maybe Spanky, as in Spanky and Our Gang. 

Later, when my daughter did not respond to texts or calls, I contacted the police department and asked them to do a wellness check.  I got a groggy call back from her, saying she was sleeping.  I will keep doing this until she gets it that I need to hear from her.  She goes to work at three in the morning, that was enough to worry about.  There are only two people that go in at that hour.  Ashkan has lots of guns.  He also has connections. 

My son blocked me on Facebook and his phone.  My other son called his dad to take away his brother's guns again.  My daughter-in-law threatened to get a restraining order.  I couldn't blame her.  Early one morning there had been shooting near the end of their long driveway. 

My sister texted and said she was sure she would soon be blocked.  The two of them were going at it.  My son was awful, throwing shit in her face about her actor son and me.  She was arguing with a mean little five-year-old.  I went to bed at ten, adding a sleeping pill to my cocktail.  Later, I heard a text message sound.  I ignored it, thinking it was one more insult from my son. 

To be continued....

Today's Snapshot

Gramma, 

After I mowed the yard yesterday, I was suddenly overcome with exhaustion.  My mower is a tractor.  Mowing is a pretty passive activity that I enjoy, especially when I am low on energy.  I get to admire all the flower beds, yard décor and animals.  It is an especially robust year.  Everything is lush and bigger than life.  This is the third time in the last week that the only option is to lay down.  I'm even too tired to watch TV.  The earliest I can see my regular doctor is three weeks away. 

My monthly mental health appointment was today.  My therapist has finally taken the plunge and given two week's notice.  Her supervisor has repeatedly claimed programs she has developed as her own work.  There is also that backstabbing and lack of appreciation thing.  I hear the same complaints from many of my working friends.  We are both working on the big picture. 

We talked briefly about my daughter-in-law not returning my calls, which means the kids have not spent any time this summer making memories with me.  She is angry about something, but won't tell me what.  She is pregnant and crabbier than usual.  It is a sad thing to deprive us of time together because she has a butt hurt.  Meanwhile, I will send the kids postcards.  Life is getting shorter by the minute.  Get over yourself. 

If the weather holds, Dave and I are going to a biker event when he gets home.  It's been dreary and sprinkling.  There is nothing planned for dinner and there will be food.  I ate a dozen monster cookies today.  I got them at a garage sale.  Find of the day was a lot of gypsy looking bedroom stuff--pillows, curtains. fabrics.  I am thinking for my granddaughter's bedroom she will have in the basement when her baby sister gets her old room.  Maybe it will wait until teen years.  I have storage space in my hoarding shed.