It’s been a weekend of Dealing With Shit. I am tired of dealing with shit. But I don’t have any choice. Privilege!
Tom Cruise is thinking of despoiling another classic 60s TV show: U.N.C.L.E. Nooooooooo!!
I’ve pretty much resigned myself to turds like Cruise ruining my childhood memories.
She wore black tights and knee-high boots, a lavishly ruffled green blouse, walking her little white dog as if heading down a fashion runway.
Surprisingly, my Lotto ticket does not have winning numbers. One more chance tonight. I bet this time I’ll win big
I’m not sure if I’m ashamed I know about this or not. It certainly is hilarious, and possibly (probably) TMI: http://bit.ly/YIPmJU
PETA kills 90% of all animals taken to their shelter: http://bit.ly/Xvr070
I’m finding it highly ironic that I just put a “Freedom” stamp on the payment I’m mailing off to the Tax Board.
Writing tip: Chances are, anything that can be labeled hip is not unique. Know what true uniqueness is before you attach that label to yourself.
Tell the L.A. Times ownership: “No Sale to the Koch Brothers!” http://signon.org/s/T39u6o
Girls who define themselves by who they’re dating creep me the hell out. Talk about the Zombie Apocalypse!
Forms, forms, and more forms. The gubmint’s appetite for them is endless.
Dear upscale boutique: having a sign outside your store with script so fancy it can’t be easily read negates having a sign outside your store.
There are days when I could start screaming and never stop till my voice gave out. Fortunately for those around me I’ve maintained control.
Ironic outsourcing facts: The address for the Los Angeles Fire Department EMS billing is in Wheat Ridge, Colorado.
Mom home from rehab on Friday. Thus follows days characterized by alternating moments of terror and relief.
I wouldn’t say I’m frazzled, but I just had a moment of panic about missing a meeting this morning…that I actually attended.
My phone conversations with my mother would make great comedy routines—if they weren’t so desperately frustrating to endure.
Who’s on first? That’s right.
Mom turned 92 yesterday and everyone wanted to give her little parties. The Happy Birthday phone calls began at 7 a.m., but she enjoyed herself a lot.
That’s all that really matters.
I began my “weekend” in the wee hours of Friday morning with a nasty bout of food poisoning, but the weekend ended well enough, Sunday being Mom’s birthday. We took her out to dinner at Billingsley’s—an old-fashioned (70s décor) steakhouse. It was great and she really enjoyed it.
I had a long, happy dream last night about having enough time and energy to have a creative life again.
I think Peter Dinklage should be People’s Sexiest Man Alive. Dead serious there.
Nothing in life is quite so good as sleeping in your own bed. And yes, that includes sex and porterhouse steak.
She was always a slamming great cook; it’s a big point of pride to still cook, though it’s not always what it once was. Wouldn’t dream of saying anything to hurt her feelings. Just shut up and eat. Which is emblematic of my entire life, now that I think about it.
Back at the ER.
Mom’s chest pains turned out not to be a heart attack. A day of testing in the hospital. She’ll be released today. Update when I know more.
p.s. My cat is sick. I’ll try to work the vet in.
Finding time to get the cat to the vet while not knowing precisely when to pick up Mom…special.
Found a new use for my portable Bluetooth speaker: sitting it on the counter while I take a shower and waiting for the doctor(s) to call.
A strained muscle in Mom’s chest so that when she took a deep breath it hurt. On our way home.
And Min is feeling much better tonight, too. 🙂
I spent an ungodly amount of money at the vet this weekend. Min is okay. I don’t feel the money was wasted. I love my baby.
She was harassing me at 4 a.m. to get my slothful butt up and feed her so I’d say she’s back to her old self.
I was busy all day at work then there was a screw up at the dialysis clinic and Mom got hooked up late. We didn’t get home until 8 p.m. so I heard about Boston plenty, but in bits and pieces. I wasn’t flooded with it all day. This morning there were police cars out in front of the building when I got to work. Just parked, hanging out. We’re a soft but unlikely target. Still, I don’t imagine the poor people watching a venerable race in Boston imagined themselves to be targets, either. Godspeed, Boston. My thoughts and prayers are with you.
I feel like the mother of a toddler: my purse is full of snacks and things to entertain the one I care for.
Mom saw a TV ad for the larger Kindle Fire HD and said, “It sure would be nice to have one of those larger ones. Too bad my birthday’s past.” What I thought but didn’t say was “Mother’s Day is coming up.” Mom probably was thinking but not saying the same thing. She may be old, but she’s still sly, and doesn’t hesitate to ask for stuff she wants. Life’s is way the hell too short.
Min has the beginnings of kidney issues. Nothing life threatening right now, but we’ll get her tested every 6 months or so. Kidneys!