Grand Slam Communication
On the same day that my car wouldn’t start.
My coffee maker died.
This could have been a tragedy.
But my mother taught me some useful household skills.
I don’t need no stinkin’ coffee maker.
I made a pot of coffee on the stovetop.
And then called a tow truck.
No lives were lost.
I love my Grown Sons.
I love them more than life itself.
They are my pride and joy.
My reason for living.
But every now and then…
Every now and then I’d like to punch them in the throat.
The Grown Son was hangry.
He complained bitterly that there was no food in the house.
And he was starving.
There is plenty of food in the house.
It’s just not ready to eat.
It’s in the form of ingredients.
And it needs to be cooked.
He’s moving out to his own apartment this week.
He is going to starve.
The thing they never tell you about diabetes is what a time suck it is.
The day is half done, and I haven’t gotten a darn thing accomplished.
You not only have to manage the medical end of it, you also have to manage the business end of it.
And lucky me – I’ve got twice the fun with two diabetic kids.
You can’t opt out.
You can’t end the call.
You can’t take your business elsewhere.
Well you can, but only with prior insurance authorization.
And good luck with that.
It’s going to be one of those days.
I think I’m going to need a burrito to get me through this.
How many carbs is that?
Yesterday was the Storm of the Century.
It had been hyped in the news all week.
It looked like the brunt of the storm was going to hit to the east of us.
Sure enough, by the end of the day, all we had gotten was some drizzle.
The Grown Son decided to take the dog for a walk before dinner.
While they were out, the Storm of the Century screamed alive with gusto.
Wind, thunder, lightening and an absolute deluge of rain blasted down all at once.
“Are they still out there?” The Husband asked me, shouting over the storm.
“Yep.” I hollered back.
He drove out to rescue them, and eventually returned home with everyone soaking wet.
Even The Husband, who was driving, was soaking wet.
I’m not sure how that happened.
The dog was freaked out.
She huddled in a towel, shivering, on my lap.
She’s an old girl, and not so enthusiastic about exercise on a good day.
We may never get her back on a walk again.
This morning we even had a bit of snow.
Again, the dog was not amused.
I think we have entered a new phase of Cranky Old Dog.
Thanks to the Storm of the Century.
The Grown Son has been staying with us for a few months since he transferred his job to our city.
He will be moving into his own place in two weeks.
Up until this point, he has been a pretty thoughtful housemate.
He has kept his bathroom sort of clean, and he has kind of picked up after himself in the kitchen.
But now he has a short-timer’s attitude.
The bathroom is a wreck.
Dishes are everywhere.
Laundry has exploded into places where laundry shouldn’t be.
Two more weeks, two more weeks…
Two more weeks and then I can get my clean freak on.
Yeah, it’s true.
The week between Christmas and New Years is an existential void.
What time is it?
What day is it?
When was the last time I changed out of my pajamas?
But you don’t really experience a true existential void unless you have a diabetic in the family.
Or even two diabetics.
Who are both running post-holiday high blood sugars.
And are very cranky.
I solved this problem by telling them that it’s time to clean house.
They both disappeared.
One of them locked himself in one bedroom to watch the Simpsons marathon.
The other one locked himself in another bedroom to watch Bowl games.
Peace at last…
And just like that, my Y2K baby has turned 20.
He was born in the final, waning days of 1999.
He loved to lord over his classmates that he wasn’t just a few weeks or a few months older than them, or a year older, or even a decade or a century older.
No, he was an entire millennium older than everyone else.
These are awesome bragging rights for all kids born in December of 1999.
And he still sometimes opens conversations with, “Back in the 90s…”
Because he was there.
For a couple of days.
Happy birthday, Kiddo.
I took a quiz to find out who likes me.
The entire family laughed heartily.
“No one likes you,” they chortled.
I took the quiz.
“No one likes you.”
Stupid quiz.
I thought I was well past that stage in my life where I find weird items in odd places.
Apparently not.
Today I found a can of shaving cream in a bookcase.
What the heck?
I put it under the bathroom sink.
I my mind I can already hear the outrage.
“Who moved my shaving cream?”