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Gender: Do not display
Current location: Massachusetts
Member since: Thu Jun 16, 2016, 06:54 PM
Number of posts: 3,200

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The curious evolution of my paternal relationships.

It has taken 76 years for all this to be sorted out.

In 1944, my mother the WAC had a one-night stand in the French Quarter and I began. She married another sailor and his name was on my birth certificate. They divorced in a couple of years and she remarried, and he adopted me.

He was not a good father. (Read into that sentence all the abuse you can imagine). I was grown and married with kids when he died. My mother ran into her first husband again and they started dating. He called me constantly and wanted to be my father. Luckily, they broke up.

She met and married a retired soldier 11 years younger than she, and they've been married 30 years. She's 98 and he takes care of her in their home. He cooks, cleans, and keeps her comfortable now that she is wheelchair-bound.

This man is the best father I've ever had, and if you knew him, you'd say I was really scraping the bottom of the barrel. He's a bigot because that's how he grew up. We argue all the time, about his stupid racist right-wing views. But he's improved a LOT. He hasn't used racist labels in years. He admitted to me (an atheist) that his piety is mostly for show, to make my mom happy.

He listens when I explain how letting people come into the country is the right thing to do. I got him to admit that TFG was not all he had thought he was. He's fully vaccinated. He's kind to people. He loves me, and says so.

So, I read people's tributes to their wonderful fathers and I'm glad for them, but in my quiet little space, I feel that I have a father. I joke about it and say I'm pitiful, but we make do with what we have.

Ticks on the dog...oh my

After walking in the woods, we knew to inspect our little terrier for ticks, and we found a couple on her longish hair. She gets monthly flea & tick treatment so we don't worry much.

Later we noticed her batting at her face with her paw. We found ten ticks just below her mouth and around her chin! We hadn't thought to look closely there. Luckily, none were embedded.

Remember this area when you check! Now I'm calling her ticky monster.

The descendents keep coming, and there's nothing I can do

to stop them. Great-grandchild #12 born yesterday, and #13 coming in a month. More sure to come, as grandchildren of all ages start and continue their families.

This was never my conscious intention, and I apologize to the over-populated Earth.

Look how pretty our wisteria is this year.

Last year my husband thought it was dead. I said do not lay a clipper on those branches or you'll be the dead one! Ha

We watched all of Last Tango in Halifax.

You know how sometimes when a series ends, you wish it hadn't? I'm mourning the loss of these people. I want to know what's happening to them now, and if anybody died, and who's in love with whom.

Only downside was that the British accents were hard for us to get a grip on half the time. But the actors were simply spectacular at their craft.

Calling my son a big fat chicken worked!

Yesterday I found out that my son was vaccine hesitant. He was too busy, he'd have to miss work, his arm might be sore, what if it's not necessary, blah blah blah.

My son is 53 years old. He lives in an area of Louisiana where he can just walk in to a clinic and get the vaccine. He's a big guy (about 300 lbs.) and I told him if he gets Covid it will not go well for him. (His wife is vaccinated.)

I clucked like a chicken and called him a scaredy-cat.

He just texted me a picture of his card showing he got his first Moderna today. I guess he listened to his mother.

I know it's mostly myth, but once a year I suspend disbelief.

Glaucoma drops that give you purple clown eyes, anybody?

My pressure was up so the dr switched me to Latanoprost, in addition to another drop I've always used, and now my eyes are encircled all around with purplish red coloring. I'll call the dr tomorrow but as I gaze in the mirror, I think I look like a waif on drugs.

They gave me a three-month supply; I was so happy about that. 😕

One Godblessyou over the line...

I go to Zumba classes four times a week. My gym hired a new desk person to take temperatures and greet members. He was very friendly, which was fine.

When I left the desk he'd say Godblessyou. When I passed him on the way out he'd say it again. It started feeling a little creepy. I mentioned it to a couple of class friends and they found it odd but just laughed it off.

One day I asked him, politely, not to say it. He continued. I spoke to a manager, who at first asked me "if I was a person who..." and I stopped him, saying I shouldn't have to explain myself and I'd asked the person not to say it, and it probably wasn't a job requirement. He agreed.

Today when I went in, the desk person apologized and I quickly and happily accepted. When I left, he said have a good afternoon.

Many people would not be bothered by constant Godblessyou's in a secular setting, but I was. I'm glad I made my feelings known.

One of my eight granddaughters got married this evening,

on the New Orleans lakefront, with only the two sets of parents and her 8-year-old son present. Her first wedding. She is six months pregnant, marrying a man with no education who pays child support for four children. He has a job. She lost hers. She owns a house with a mortgage.

My son sent me pictures. It was very casual. She looked beautiful. What can we say, when our loved ones make their choices? We say congratulations, good luck, we wish you the best, we love you.

The rest is up to the fiddler on the roof.
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