Think of the most gut-clenching and offensive sandwiches one could maybe try to consume or stomach, say, liverwurst? pimento and cheese? Headcheese?
We've been offered every delicacy as of late.
Every day presents us with a new and improved disgusting poo poo platter.
I keep asking myself, "Is it Lent three months early?"
Rich's car or should I say, Rich, was in a knarly accident this past week. He was sandwiched between to vehicles which totaled his beloved "Betty." Veronica is just too vapid of a name and let's face it, their beauty fades away and she always leaves you wondering if she's playing the field.
Betty was loyal and held herself together and him during the accident.
Luckily the 18-year-old texting and driving fool, didn't kill anyone.
Message of this post and our life this week: "at least no one died."
I feel like everyday we walk around, my motto has become: "at least no one died."
but I am wrong. A whole lot of people are dying.
A friend's mother died and was buried this week.
A friend's son died and was buried this week.
During my friend's mother's funeral, there was the usual picture montage with music completing the setting. Most of the music, I ignored. Until, there was Norah Jones', "Come Away with Me...."
Then the start of
made me weep like a freaking baby.
The family hadn't even walked into the room.
Thankfully, the song was aborted after 10 notes.
I composed myself and was able to be less emotional and more mannequin like for everyone's sake.
I started to dress myself for the other funeral but couldn't make myself actually get in my car for it. Something about a mother losing her child made me freeze and hunker down and just be. with my kids.
I feel like I suck in so many ways for not going. Most would say she wouldn't know I was there but if she is anything like me, and she is, she knew every person who was in attendance.
Wreck, lost purse, new checking accounts, no check cards, no money December, no car, carpooling it, 12-year-old who is going on 16-asshole syndrome, no time to fix shit, pleasing everyone and no one, working hard for $8 an hour, calligraphy assignments, putting a smile on my face when I don't feel like it, free radical hormones abounding in the air at every second, dissention and more fucking crazy dissention.
Not with me, if you are wondering.
Except for the fact, I can't balance a checking book. Then again, that shit is kid's stuff if you are asking me. or him. an annoyance of sorts.
Again, I keep telling myself, "at least no one died."
I've worried more about my husband this past week than I have in the past 15-years of marriage.
On so many levels.
His life, his health; then again his life, his health and just how to come to terms with this life.
on a very tumultuous playing ground.
an unfair playing ground.
one part made of quick sand and the other made of terra firma clay.
In the end, we go on and be the great pretenders for everyone.
Make them feel better about everything.
Placate and soothe.
No worries you fucked up my life right now. I didn't need that car. It's not like it was something I always wanted.
No worries on the other complete bullshit.
It's just all shit.
"at least no one died."