Friday April 09th 2010, 9:38 AM
Filed under: Anger,assholes,Grief,ineptitude,kids,owies

Reversal of Fortune

To me she was a job, a few extra bucks, some company during the day.

To mom, she is a precious babe, who needs to be shielded from knowing all the sordid details of her dad and his family.

To dad, she is a link to mom, a pawn in a vicious game that involves innocent kids and not-so-innocent adults.

I went to pick up Mack and found her leaving the school with her Grandmom. I grabbed my cell phone and confronted the woman who was clutching the little girl tightly. Trying hard to stay calm, I called Mom , but got no answer. She was still busy at the courthouse, filing papers and dealing with her lawyer. Grandmom tells me that the custody has changed. My services are no longer needed as she will be taking Mack home with her.

Oh fuck no you are not.

I refused to relinquish my right to that poor girl. “You may not walk off this school property with that kid until I have spoken to her mom. I will call 9-1-1 and also tell the school what you are doing unless you can show me, in writing, what rights you have.”

She couldn’t produce a thing.

Mackenzie-bright child that she is- suggested that Grandmom drive me home. “Then you can see where Miss Chris lives!”  Oh yes. I quickly jumped on the idea and also mentioned that in the meantime we would try to reach Mack’s mom. Maybe  Grandmom would leave Mack with me and once she knew where I lived, she would agree to pick her up if indeed the custody agreement was in her favor.

Finally Mom called me. Yes, unfortunately, the custody agreement is changed but it won’t go into effect until Friday. Mack stays with me. Grandmom was not happy….not one bit.  She dropped us off at my house. ” I hope you understand the position that I am in.” I said. “I simply have to follow the letter of the law. My ass is on the line here.”

“I understand” she said and she smiled. It was a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. I was an accomplice of the enemy.


Mackenzie wanted to leave with Grandmom, and when denied, she cried her eyes out for the second time in a day.

Mom came to get Mack a few hours later and we had a chance to talk. The child was asleep on my couch, having sobbed herself to sleep. Mom told me the whole story. It involved violence and restraining orders. It involved a woman who had worked for several lawyers and knew many judges personally. It involved a man who not only had many run-ins with the law, but was also friendly with others in law enforcement. It  involved a young mother without the money, resources and connections that the opposing side had. Even with police reports and photographic evidence of violence that occurred when kids were in the house, the judge ignored the pleas and is allowing Grandmom to take Mack to and from school again. Dad  is allowed to have Mack on the weekends when he will party it up and leave the child with Grandmom.  Mom is allowed to cry bitter tears of frustration at a system corrupted by who you do and do not know.

And Mack is allowed to fall through the cracks…. along with her younger brother and sister. She has already learned to tell her mom that if she can’t have her own way, she will go live with Dad or Grandmom.

I may have lost a job, but this child has lost so much more.

Thursday April 08th 2010, 8:32 AM
Filed under: assholes,family,Grief,kids,other shit


Three days into the new job and I’m wondering how long I can do this. Is it my age?  My allergy headache?  The heat?  I keep thinking “Fuck my life”.  It feels like a mantra today. Am I ‘drama magnet’?  You be the judge.

In the twenty-five years that I’ve spent watching other people’s kids, I’ve seen alot.  Other than my sisters-in-law, I have babysat the kids of single moms,  newly divorced moms, stupid moms and druggie moms. Very few were what I would call normal.  I have taken on yet another.

Mack’s parents are divorced. Her mom is a single, non-driving, mom of three. Mack is the oldest at 6 and the kids are 2 years apart. I know her job does not offer benefits, nor does she make big money. She works in a store across the street from her apartment and uses the train (which runs behind her place) to get the little ones to the day care. That is enough to make my brain itch. I can’t imagine dealing with just that much!

The drama comes in with the divorce business. Mack’s dad has issues all his own that include not visiting when he says he will, not paying child support consistently, stalking his ex-wife, etc. Both parents ‘talk’ in front of the kids. Mackenzie used to travel to and from school with her father’s mom and she would hang out with her all afternoon. Grandmom also likes to talk shit about Mack’s mom to a kid! What the fuck is wrong with people??

Now when kids come to me with all this type of shit going on at home, I try very hard to make sure that they understand that it is between the ‘grown-ups’  and that they are still loved. I try to be a consistent element in their inconsistent lives. For the most part, the kids have always been happy to come to my house and they would show up with smiling faces. The few exceptions were the ones who had never been separated from mom, were sick, or were just having a bad day.

Today, Mack’s mom had to go to court for more custody crap. Mack only knew that mom wasn’t working and she wanted desperately to stay home with mom. With my doors and windows open, I could hear her crying as she approached my house. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want mom to leave her. She didn’t want to go to school. She cried and sobbed uncontrollably. Snot and tears streamed down her face. I had to peel her off of her mom, who just looked so tired and sad.  She is under the impression that Mack is simply missing Grandmom (because that is what Mack told her)

Mack is not missing Grandmom. Well, I’m sure she is to some extent, but in my opinion, I think that it is more an insecurity issue. It’s early in the morning, she has just walked half a mile to my house, it’s already hot, and she knows that something is going on with Mom because she looked nice today. I can’t treat the crying as just a tantrum. I have to be understanding. I have to let her cry it out a little bit because she doesn’t understand what she is feeling.

As for myself, I woke up with an allergy headache. I am already sweating. My ankle hurts a little bit, but I’m sure that I am only adjusting to walking so far after being sedentary for so long. The last thing I needed today was a kid crying so hard she had snot bubbles.  I guess I should stop bitching about me….Just thinking about Mack’s mom makes me realize, that it could be worse.

Mack and I will just have to adjust together…..Me to working my body again, and Mack to the new way of her little life.

Wednesday March 31st 2010, 5:50 PM
Filed under: Anger,assholes,business,Hubs

“I’m No Thief”

Earlier I sat down to write and I thought “Nothing post worthy seems to be happening lately.”  It’s true. It’s been very quiet and mostly SSDD, y’know?  Until, that is, this afternoon.

Hubs came in after work and threw his clipboard on the table.  “Look up DELAWARE VALLEY GUTTERS and find me a number!”  (oh yes, friends. I am naming names)

I closed up my game of solitaire and found what the mister was looking for. His eyes were deep blue. Like a mood ring, his hazel eyes change according to mood. Deep blue means someone’s getting fucked UP.

It seems that when he went into the Wawa, someone from DELAWARE VALLEY GUTTERS watched the door and made sure Hubs was busy while his buddy went into our work van,  and took a cordless drill, it’s charger and not one, but two rechargeable batteries. A customer came in and recognized Hubs as a regular. “Dude! You don’t know that guy do you? He’s taking something outta your truck!” Hubs ran out, but was too late to stop the chickenshit. Two employees also saw what had gone down. Hubs was too pissed off and wanted to handle this ‘himself’.


After I gave him the number, he called DELAWARE VALLEY GUTTERS and got the boss on the line. This company is practically around the corner from our house. Hubs told him what happened. This guy tried to tell him that his employee must have “mistaken our truck for his.”  Bitch please! Our trucks don’t look that bad!  Besides, the company name was printed on the side in huge lettering. How do you think Hubs found out who did it? Hubs told him that if his ‘drug-addled’ employee would go back to the store and return the items, we could just forget that the whole thing ever happened. The boss said okay.  (Can I just say that I am sooo proud of Hubs for not only using the phrase “drug-addled” but also for using it right!)

After a few calls back and forth (at first the employee denied it, and then he tried to be confused about where he was supposed to return the stuff) Hubs and the guy finally met at the store. The kid got out of his vehicle and brought the stuff to Hubs. The first thing he said was “Dude, I’m no thief”.  Hubs went apoplectic. “You little shit! That’s exactly what the fuck you are! Or would  you prefer to tell the police that you were only borrowing my shit? Let’s see what they would call it!”

Hubs said the kid almost started crying. I know Hubs and he is the type of guy that doesn’t just take one swing. He would have put a hurt on the kid. He shook his head in disgust and told the kid to get the fuck away from him before he changed his mind and hit him. He then called back the boss of DELAWARE VALLEY GUTTERS and told him that if he found that anything else was missing from the van, the cops would be showing up to collect it.

Can you believe that the kid isn’t going to be fired? His boss said that he’ll “make sure this kid gets a good talking to.”  After all, Hubs got his stuff back and “no harm/ no foul, right?”  Hubs said that taking this any further will cause him to lose his own time and earnings. It just galls me that this kid actually said that he was “no thief”

You are a thief, punk. Own it if you’re gonna do it.

Saturday March 06th 2010, 3:07 PM
Filed under: Anger,assholes,celebration,ineptitude,other shit

Answer Me!

Is it too much to ask for an RSVP?


 I was only having a candle demonstration. It was a favor to Shenanigan. She would get extra party points if someone agreed to book at her party. Besides that, the girl from PartyLites was new. Shenanigan’s party was her first. So I volunteered to have a party.

Twice snow has forced a cancellation. Once it was just enough to wet the streets, but because the temperatures were so low, the streets froze. The other time, the cities were closed. This time, finally, the weather has cooperated.

One thing remained the same….no one knows what RSVP means.

This really pisses me off. It’s not a new thing. It’s happened before. If I wanted to call everyone on the day of the party for an answer, I wouldn’t have asked weeks ahead of time. I gave the date, hoping that they’d mark the calendar….way ahead of time….but no, suddenly, they all have plans. Don’t like demos? Fine. Just say so.

I don’t want to buy diet sodas for those that drink it. I don’t like it and if they don’t show, who gets to have it sitting around? Me.  I don’t want to make a big veggie tray or cheese and crackers because it will go to waste in my house.

I can’t imagine what it is like for someone throwing a wedding, or anniversary party. We will be throwing a graduation party for Babygirl and a 50th birthday party for Hubs. Both of these will involve lots of food and drinks. I swear to Jeebus, if you don’t RSVP, don’t show the fuck up at my door. I will suddenly not have enough food or drink for you….because YOU WERE UNEXPECTED!!!!

Monday March 01st 2010, 7:33 PM
Filed under: Anger,assholes,doctors,Hubs,other shit

Perfect Storm

I am a cranky, miserable bitch. There I go, stating the obvious.


I am having a perfect storm of ‘bad’.  Not my husband, kids or friends. It’s me. Capital M. Capital E. I am constantly bitching at my poor Hubs. He knows something is wrong but is afraid to ask. We are so in tune to each other that he knows that I will bite his head off if he says “What’s wrong?”  He is being ever so sweet. He helps me clean the house. He helps with Bandit. He cooks me breakfast and orders dinner. But it doesn’t make me happy.

Babygirl has been so happy lately. We (she) is getting all of her FAFSA papers filed. She hasn’t argued with me. She has cleaned her room.(mostly) She helps with the laundry.She has chosen her roommate for next year and they are like long lost friends. It will be a good pairing.  But it doesn’t make me happy.

A major part of the problem is that the doctor has cut the dosage of my antidepressant in half. (“Let’s see how you make out with less of a dosage. Maybe we can wean you off of it.”) I learned my lesson about that. I would stop taking it every spring so that I could take something for my allergies. In the summer, I am out in the sunshine more, and therefore, I am happier. But as soon as September rolls around, I am depressed, and I have to ask the doctor to put me back on them. This is the first year I have stayed on them and I am very happy with the results that I have been having. I am humoring Dr. Asshat for the next week or so. Then he will have to humor ME.

Another part of the problem is that the pain in my back has worsened. This isn’t the first time it has happened after a series of shots. But it is the first time that I am in excruciating pain that keeps me in a constant cycle of sit/stand/walk every half hour or so. My pain meds are not working completely. I called his office today and we are in the process of getting me into the hospital for my neuralytic. This is the only thing that has made me happy.

I haven’t been thrilled with movies or music. This is highly unusual for me. I had been writing and now I look at the page and it takes too much effort for me to reread and find my place again. I log onto Facebook and aside from a comment here or there, I don’t even want to hang out there. This has not gone unnoticed by my friends. I am Ms Crankypants. I have lost my funny. I am the cheerleader. The clown. The jokester. Now if anyone says anything to me, I have a very curt answer. I am cynical. Cold.

Now that I have filled this page with an explanation, it is obvious to me what my next step should be.

I don’t think I’ll wait a month for Dr Asshat. Fuck that.

I want ME back.

Monday February 08th 2010, 11:45 AM
Filed under: Anger,assholes,ineptitude,lessons,weather,Winter

It’s Snow Picnic


Just a few observations…

* You shovel your walk and dig out your car. You put the snow in the street. The plow pushes it back and buries your car. So you dig out your car. You put the snow in the street. The plow pushes…

*If your shovel broke on Saturday or Sunday, GO TO THE FUCKING HOME DEPOT AND BUY A NEW ONE TODAY!!  Don’t wait until Tuesday afternoon when the next storm starts. Oh, and while you’re there? GRAB A GODDAMNED BAG OF SALT!

*The snow comes and everyone runs out and buys up all the milk and bread. If you can’t drive down a street in your little freaking Prius, what makes you think that delivery trucks will be able to fit through? If the cashier says “We have no milk and bread.” Don’t ask if she is hiding some in the back for tomorrow’s shoppers. Yeah, she’s hiding it…..fuck head.


*If you park your car under a tree or other area in which it is possible that snow will fall on it, turn off your fucking car alarm. If it goes off at three in the morning again, you’d better not let it honk for an hour. If you do, I will pour water over your car doors and windows and your front steps.

*The roads are narrower due to the snow piles. They are narrower for everyone. This means MOVE THE FUCK OVER if you see another car coming. Your Hummer is an asshole’s behemoth. Don’t be so freaking selfish!

*Are you an exerciser? Are you a mom? Stay out of the street! Can you skip the shit for ONE DAY??  Slip on the ice while we are driving and you deserve to be run over. If you have to take the kids out in the stroller, don’t make them a party to your idiocy. I saw cars fishtailing. Who’s to say that one wouldn’t plow into that stroller with your beautiful twins in it?  You don’t know me, but you ruined my day just knowing you were responsible for those little angels.


 We now return you to your regular blog reading….

Monday February 01st 2010, 6:33 PM
Filed under: Anger,assholes,Hubs,ineptitude


Hubs is a good guy. He is a generous lover, a thoughtful man and a good provider. Lately, though, it’s like he can’t get anything right.

First off…there was that deal with the beef and beer. (We are still in debate about that!)

Now, there is…..’besides’.

Here you can see his laundry beside the basement door. Why didn’t he just open the door and toss them down? He’s the first to say “Don’t bend, you’ll hurt your back.” or “Let Son2 get that clothes basket. It’s too heavy.” And yet, I have to bend to pick up his clothes when they could have been tossed easily.


Next, we have yet another example of ‘beside’.  Note the spoon rest.  Now look at the coffee spots.  And do you see the spoon…..beside the spoon rest? Now how did that happen?  “I don’t know….I just did it. Okay? You want me to wipe it up? Fine! I’ll wipe it up!” THAT’S NOT THE POINT! Why so close? Why not ON?  There is no answer that will not cause my head to explode.


And now, the one that makes me the craziest….beside the trash. See that bottle? It’s not there for recycling. (It is my job to gather that stuff up. No one EVER recycles here except for me so he can’t use that as his excuse.) Also notice the new bag in the trashcan. Normally, my family plays “As long as it is perched precariously without spilling, it is technically in the trash”  Trash could be piled sky high, in which case, he will put his stuff on that counter and claim that he didn’t want it to spill out of the can. But here, there is clearly plenty of room. This happens several times a week. “Why didn’t you just put it in the can?”   “I don’t know, Chris. Is it really that big a deal? Is it worth fighting about?”



YES IT IS DAMMIT!!!  This passive/aggressve shit has to stop. Someone has a bug up their ass. So far, I think it’s him but if this shit continues, he will have more than a bug….he’ll have my fucking BOOTS!

Wednesday January 27th 2010, 10:26 PM
Filed under: assholes,doctors,ineptitude,questions

Short Procedures -Pt.3

When the diverticulitis first struck me, I went to “T” Hospital because it was the closest. None of my usual doctors are there, but at the time, the pain was so bad that I HAD to go there. I was amazed that the tests were done fairly quick for a weekend. I had gone in around noon, had a CAT scan, was diagnosed and in a room by dinner time.  For me, that is an unusual thing. I am used to sitting for 3 hours or more in the ER with my kids, or waiting around only to be told that no testing is done on weekends. (Except for severe things) Since the doctor that treated me was there, I went to “T” for the colonoscopy too.

On that day, I went into the Short Procedure Unit and gave my name. The man at the desk already had the chart I had filled out in the Doc’s office in his hand. I signed my consent to be treated and was immediately ushered into Room 2. In Room 2, the nurses took my blood pressure, temperature, and asked me a few health history questions. This took ten minutes…tops. Into Room 3. In bathroom off to the side, I put on my gown, and hung my stuff up on a hook. Coming out, I was in the procedure room. IV went in, I rolled onto my side and I was done. When I woke up, I was handed a drink, they took my blood pressure and handed me my clothes. After I dressed, they took my blood pressure one more time and I was good to go.

That was it.

Yesterday (and all the other times) I went in for my back injections. I enter “F” Hospital. I must go to the main desk and tell them I am here. The old woman tells me to go across the hall. (Duh, I do this every week. Plus I have done this for the past four years that I have been getting this done) Across the hall, the woman gathers all of my insurance info. They check my address, phone number and Social Security number. EVERY SINGLE WEEK. They have computers. They have all of this in front of them and yet, we must do this every week. I sign papers and then I am told to go upstairs to the Short Procedure Unit.

In SPU, I am given a gown, I get changed and then they take all kinds of medical history. What meds are you on? Any history of this or that? Why are you here? EVERY WEEK. None of this ever changes. These women see the same people over and over week after week. Hubs and I are getting to know their faces too. We all see the same doctor. We all do the same procedures. Sometimes the nurses even ask us about our vacations, kids, spouses and if we are still taking “X” medicine or if we had “Y” procedure that we had chatted about last year. Really. That’s how often some of  us are there. And then I sign more papers.

After they ask these questions, we sit in a holding area for an hour or more. Yes, an hour or more. Finally, someone comes to get us and we go to another holding area where they put in an IV, ask us more questions and make me sign more papers. the doctor comes in to say hello and prove that he is sober(I assume). He puts little x’s on my back and I am wheeled into the procedure room.

When I awaken, I am in yet another room where I will stop being groggy and lay there listening to the nurses’ idle chitchat. After a half hour or so, (an additional 20 minutes for each shot I may need for pain management) I am taken back to the the SPU. I get some juice and they take my blood pressure and temperature and oxygen reading. I eat a few crackers and they take my blood pressure and temperature and oxygen reading. I am finally given my clothes and after I dress, they take my blood pressure and temperature and oygen reading.

THEN they will make sure my ride is there and let me leave.

Two hospitals. Two hugely different methods of intake. I don’t understand this. At “T” Hospital, when I told them how surprised Iwas at how quickly things were managed, they were shocked to hear how long things took at the other hospital. At “F” Hospital, they were amazed at how quickly “T” handled business. “F”‘s nurses were convinced that somehow “T” was running a less than efficient SPU by cutting corners…somewhere. They agreed with me that all necessary info was gathered  by both hospitals. All steps were taken to insure my health. But I had gone in for a procedure and got out within an hour and a half…tops. For the shots, while I will concede that it is very different procedure, the intake should not be all that different or more complicated.

Why can’t my info be saved until next week? Why can’t they look at it and say “has anything changed from last week?” So much of what they do seems to be redundant. I wonder how much money could be saved by cutting it down to a a clean routine like “T” Hospital seems to implement?

Is this part of why our health care costs so much? Or is this a sign of  ‘Health-care-yet-to-come’?

Short Procedure? PFFFTT!

Monday January 25th 2010, 7:42 PM
Filed under: assholes,doctors,Hubs,lessons,other shit,owies

Short Procedures-Pt. 2

In October, I ended up in the hospital suffering from stomach pains.  The diagnosis?  Diverticulitis. Small little pockets grow on the sides of the intestines and manage to catch all the little things that you might see in a groovy shit. (Raisins, nuts and oh yeah, corn) It is manageable and mainly depends on carefully watching what I eat. This new way of eating consists mainly of avoiding nuts, seeds and many raw vegetables. ( I must say that my snacks of choice are popcorn, a handful of nuts or any kind of berry-mainly blackberries. These are now considered no-nos.)

But the best was yet to come….

It was necessary to endure a colonoscopy. Ah, yes. The supreme violation of my delicate, virginal asshole.This was not something that I was excited about so I put it off. Past Halloween. Past Thanksgiving. I was feeling great so I decided to ignore it altogether. But alas, the holidays are chock full of hidden dangers. Walnuts, almonds and peanuts are everywhere in brittles, cookies, and chocolate covered delicacies. I indulged in them all. A week before Christmas I had to see the doctor who told me that ‘we’ would schedule the test for the 23rd. Not the 23rd of January, but of December…..two days before Christmas.

Fine. What the fuck ever. Let’s do this.

Anyone who has had one, can tell you that it is not the procedure itself that is the -pardon the pun- pain in the ass. It is all the ‘prep work’ that sucks. It is the little, bitty pills that cause your stomach to cramp and your bowels to clench in pain.  It is the clear fluid in the little green bottle-magnesium citrate to be exact- that causes your intestines to turn themselves inside out.


The doctor told me to drink one bottle of hellwater at 7am. This ended up being a whole fiasco on it’s own. That shit was horrid!!!  On my countertop, I lined up the hellwater, a tall glass of Gatorade, and then a glass of water. I downed as much as I could without throwing it all right back up. Quickly, I pass on to the Gatorade, which only served to give me a funky taste and feel in my mouth. Appalled, I rushed to the water to rinse my mouth.  You know when you are drunk, and you know that you are going to throw up? That hideous rush of saliva into your mouth? The rapid succession of breaths that come out like Lamaze? Yes, my friends. That is what happened. I had to hold it together, because guess what? If you don’t do this procedure ‘just so’ the hospital may end up giving you an enema. 

Uhhh, yeah. Not for me.

Within half an hour, every bit of food that had EVER crossed my lips in my entire life seemed to be shooting out of my ass in a deluge. I don’t remember anything after I sat on the toilet. The white-hot cramps seemed to lift the top of my head off and stars crossed my vision. I stayed there long enough to read two full chapters of a book I was reading. No lie! (Heh! I almost said ‘no shit’)

Later on in the day, I took the diuritic pills and then repeated the  horror of the hellwater at dinner time. Believe me when I tell you that I lost 15 pounds that day. Ask Hubs. I made him look at the scale because I thought I was delirious!!

The next day, I went to the hospital and I was in and out in no time. (Yes, I said “in and out”)  They put me to sleep and I woke up when it was done. I couldn’t believe that all that prep was needed for something so fast!

The bad news was that I had a couple of polyps. The good news was that they removed them. The better news was that there is no cancer. But worst of all?

I get to do this all again in one year. Don’t worry. I won’t forget about it or ignore it.

Hubs made sure to ask the doctor’s office to send a reminder in November. 


and then

Tuesday January 05th 2010, 10:20 PM
Filed under: assholes,doctors,family,Grief,Hubs,other shit,owies

Only Tuesday?

Well, yes it’s only Tuesday. I wish the week would just fucking zip by while I go to sleep.

Sunday was spent taking it easy. We just got to hang out and watch movies. (Which, as you know, is one of our favorite things!)  In between the movies, I would look over at the Christmas tree, just dreading the thought of all the crap that goes along with dismantling the tree. I never just stop at the tree. All of the stuff that goes on the tree gets stored  underneath everything else, so it follows that I must take the other stuff down too. The thought was exhausting. As we finished off one movie, the phone rang. Hubs’ cousin passed away due to complications of pneumonia. ‘A’ fought valiantly through the holidays but in the end was no match.


Our week was not looking good..

Monday came and with it, the visit to the doctor. We each woke up feeling relatively normal. Hubs checked out a small job and I managed to do laundry, and clean the ‘piles’  in the yard. The afternoon trip to the doctor changed all of that. During the examination, he ran his knuckle along my spine.  NOT COOL!  I was almost in tears!  He pushed on Hubs’  back and set off his back as well. Now we sat there-in horrible pain- and the doctor informs us that the insurance company wants to cut a “6 step” procedure into a “4 step” procedure. (Not just our insurance…ALL of them) He explained to us the logic that insurance companies are using. Then he explained the way our “6 step” dealy works. Now, I am not a doctor and neither is Hubs (although it is one of our favorite games.) Even as ‘medical illiterates’ we could understand how dangerous a proposition this could be.  Anyway…without too many details, we may join our doctor in a class action lawsuit against the insurance company. We will be David to the insurance company’s Goliath. I am not going to hold my breath.

Today I took down the tree. It was a long, tiring undertaking and I worked alone. While not exactly in pain, I’m just tired and achy. Son2 called to say he was in agony with a toothache. He has no dental insurance and work is getting slow for him again. He can’t catch a break. This means that Hubs and I will most likely end up helping him to pay the dentist. And Babygirl’s orthodontist bill is due next week…and Bandit needs shots….and our shots will begin….and yadda yadda fucking yadda….

Thursday will bring grief all it’s own when we travel out of state to his cousin’s funeral. Fifty-two is  just too goddamned young to die from pneumonia. That is only two years older than Hubs and that is a scary thought. I’m tired of grieving. It is too much of a weight on my soul, my heart, my…..

Hey! Maybe that’s what making my back hurt! All that motherfucking weight I carry on my heart…..

And the week marches on…..