Category Archives: Family

Can’t live with ’em, can’t…? shoot ’em.

I can’t unhear this (Mom)

Copyright 2015 YawningDog/Kate GarrensonMom: Artist’s Hands by YawningDog

Mom has been retired for about six months now. She’s 73 (looks 60 — I should be so lucky). She’s also an artist — a frustrated artist who hasn’t had the time, opportunity or self-confidence to hone her craft other than sporadically.

It didn’t take long for her to go all Telephone Thing on me nearly every day (usually twice a day at minimum). That’s understandable — she’s retired but is currently living with one of my brothers until her cottage is finished (that’s a story in itself, and not a good one). So, not only is she down from working 70 hours a week to none, she’s lost at sea in her own ocean.

The History of Mom will have to be another post, so let me just get this out of my system.

She called tonight just before I was about to put dinner on the table. She tends to go on and on when on the phone (and in person), so I said, “What’s up?”

CallingWoman1MarcelOosterwijkCalling woman I by Marcel Oosterwijk on Flickr

“What are you up to?”

“Dinner.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll let you get back to it. I just wanted to tell you that there’s been a development.”

“A development.”

“A development in my life. But yeah, but I’ll call you tomorrow and tell you all about it.”

I have visions of tossing and turning all night wondering what this development could be. The way things have been in her life lately, it could be anything from a new recipe to a potential boyfriend, and I’d like to get the discovery over with now. “Mom, you can’t just say there’s been a development in your life and then say you’ll tell me all about it in 24 hours.”

“But you’re busy.”

“Tell.”

“A hummus platter.”

I actually take the phone away from my ear, frown at it, put it back. There’s no way she’s calling me about hummus. “What?”

“I was talking to the waitress.”

“Okay. So…?”

*crickets*

“Well… should I have sex?”

My first thought: she just said this in a restaurant. My second thought came out of my mouth — “How the hell should I know?” — at the same time my inner child put its hands over its ears and chanted, La la la la, I can’t hear you!

lalalalaIdontwanttohearthisHildeSkjolbergFlickrLalalala.. I don’t wanna hear this by Hilde Slkjølberg on Flickr

“Well, there are mitigating circumstances.”

Mitigating.

“Mom… if you have desire and want to do it, then do it. If there are circumstances that might make you, I dunno, question doing it or regret it afterwards or whatever, then don’t do it.”

*crickets*

“Well… in a nutshell. Hmm. Okay, thanks, honey.”

“Okay Mom.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Yikers. My ears. My psyche.

Copyright 2015 YawningDog/Kate GarrensonShocked Eyes by YawningDog

Assface

 TheOldManIsSnoringThe Old Man Is Snoring by Lea Wiertel on Flickr

 

Monday morning, I was so out of it that I couldn’t really get fully awake and make sense. I stayed in bed while Nitram was in the shower, and I was still in bed, mostly asleep, when he got out. He wandered around getting dressed, and the dogs cuddled up to me, and he liked seeing that, even though I felt I was being lazy. I tried talking to him and it came out all mumbly. Nothing was making sense.

He had snored the night before, which he doesn’t often do. It was the kind of snoring that sounds like someone is strangling on their tonsils while trying to cough up a weasel caught in their throat. I remember reaching out several times during the night and touching his head, sort of rocking his skull back and forth on the pillow to try to make it stop.

And I remembered that, when he asked me why I was so tired. I said, “The dogs were on me all night. You were snoring.” He said he was sorry, and I said, “You were snoring… it sounded like your ass was trying to come out of your face.” He said, “Oh… nice,” and almost sounded a bit miffed.

About an hour after he’d left and I was having a second cup of tea, I finally started to really wake up, and suddenly remembered what I’d said to him. I barely made it putting the teacup on the table before I bent double, laughing like a braying donkey! I almost started crying. Scared the dogs.

He always calls me from NJsux on Monday mornings when he’s in the parking lot at work, to let me know he’s got there safe. So an hour or so after my fit, he called, and I remembered it again and started laughing, trying to apologize for what I’d said. Usually our Monday “I’m here safe” conversations last a minute or so. I kept laughing and apologizing, and he said, “Yeah, you said something like I was pooping out of my mouth,” and I shrieked and completely lost it.

It’s been coming back to me once in a while all week and I still get all creased up thinking about it.

*honkshu* … *honkshu* … *honkshu*

Dexter in the Lunchroom

So over dinner the other night, Nitram was telling me stories about work. He misses Tim, who’s a real wiseass, and sounds like someone I’d like a lot, though I’ll never get to meet him now since he’s left for greener pastures.

“This guy Greg just does not stop talking, no matter what. I’m having a peaceful lunch, reading the paper, other people are having their own peaceful lunches — even Greg, for once — when Tim walks in and says, ‘Hey, Greg, tell us all about politics in New Jersey!’ and walks out! That bastard!”

Yes, I’d definitely like Tim.

“We’re all trying to eat and Greg’s forgotten about his lunch, he’s just going on and on and on — and no one’s listening! But that doesn’t make a difference to him, he just keeps going. Oh, I swear, I — if I was a serial killer, I’d, I’d… I’d kill him first!”

I burst out laughing. Nitram goes on about Greg and I can’t stop giggling. He gives me the what look, and I say, “That was really funny!”

“It was?”

“Yes! Did you make that up?”

“Make what up?”

“‘If I was a serial killer, I’d kill him first.'”

“I guess so, yeah. But it’s true.”

My mild-mannered, easygoing mate. He’s going to off some guy for talking too much in the canteen at work. Classic sociopath. Gotta love him.

chainsaw_massacre-16_smallWM

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